


Pretty Tied Up

by Helasdottir



Series: The Three Fates [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Military, Bondage, Bottom Gavin Reed, Breathplay, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Twins, Dom/sub, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Explicit Consent, Extensive Kink Negotiation, Healthy Relationships, Impact Play, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Niles and Connor are very close but there is no incest, Nipple Play, No Prostitution, Parent Amanda (Detroit: Become Human), Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Past physical abuse, Pet Names, Praise Kink, RK900 is Niles, SSC, Sex Work, Top Upgraded Connor | RK900, Weston is a pseudonym, several other kinks mentioned but not detailed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-01-05 16:37:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 120,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18369908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helasdottir/pseuds/Helasdottir
Summary: Years of dealing with the aftermath of Gavin's abusive partners have made Tina push him to seek a healthier way to have his needs met. He reluctantly agrees to visit a professional Dominant who goes by the name of Niles Weston.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A small glossary you might find useful while reading through this, particularly if you're new to BDSM.
> 
> Impact play - the sexual practice of striking someone with a hand or appropriate toy  
> Human furniture - using someone as a foot stool, table, tray, or other similar item  
> Saint Andrew's Cross - x-shaped stand that provides restraint for the ankles, wrists and waist  
> CMNM - clothed man/naked man  
> Dungeon - public or private place designed for people to conduct BDSM scenes  
> Subspace - a specific mental state a submissive person achieves during the practice of BDSM  
> Bite - the very center of a length of rope  
> Falls - the strands of leather that make up the impact part of a flogger  
> Maintenance beatings - regular impact play, not necessarily used as punishment or part of a bigger scene, used for various purposes depending on what the submissive needs
> 
> Glossary and tags will be added to as the story progresses.
> 
> Additional warnings for this story: it happens in "our timeline", and so several recent and ongoing events are mentioned. Heavily featured are the wars in the Middle East and most major national (US) and international social causes.
> 
> I have dedicated several hours of reading and video research into this story so I hope it pleases those who choose to read it.

“Gavin, you can’t keep doing this.”

This is not new information. Tina says the same thing every time Gavin’s exploits go south, and with good reason – he often ends up badly hurt. This time there’s bruising around his neck and several whip cuts across his back. Considering how he’d parted with the man who inflicted these bruises, he’s surprised he doesn’t have a black eye to match.

A hiss escapes him as Tina touches his back, hand covered in a cold and soothing ointment to numb the pain and encourage healing. It’s not her first time caring for his wounds, but she clearly intends for it to be the last time from the words that follow.

“You should know better. The guys you bring home are rarely qualified to give you what you’re looking for, and none of them gives a shit about your needs. You’re making enough money, why don’t you go to a professional?”

“What the fuck? Why would I do that?”

“God, you’re a dumbass. For starters, a professional would consider your safety and consent. They’re the guys who look for actual kink instead of just a hole to stick their dicks in, right? That’s what you need.”

“Oh, come on.” He grunts as her hand runs over a particularly tender spot, but doesn’t flinch away. “How good can they possibly be? It’s just kinky shit, there isn’t much to it.”

“You of all people know there are safe and unsafe ways to strike someone. I don’t know for sure but I imagine people who run a business based on that would want to prevent lawsuits, so they’d take a class at least.”

“I guess,” he’s forced to concede. She has excellent points, but it’s still something strange to look into. He never considered his sexual interests things to be carried out in a professional environment.

“I’ll help you with it. We can look people up once I’m done here.”

It doesn’t take long for Tina to finish applying the ointment. Gavin knows that dressing before it dries will only create a sticky situation, so he remains shirtless and avoids the back of the couch as he sits facing forward, reaching for his laptop.

“What do I even type?”

“I don’t know. Try _professional dom Detroit_ or something.”

That’s exactly what Gavin looks for. The first result is a Dan Savage article, followed by a link to a list of kink professionals, the twitter page for a dominatrix, and a Wikipedia article on Dominic Raiola.

The name Niles Weston comes up next. Gavin clicks on the link, expecting to be disappointed by a low-budget website with shitty graphics, but is pleasantly surprised when greeted with a tasteful black theme. The man’s name is at the top of the screen in elegant white font. Under it, the title: professional male dom, kink specialist and sex educator.

Right below that, a horizontal menu presents the following pages: welcome, gallery, services, taboo, appointments, travel and events, and _more_. Beneath the menu was the picture of a strong jawline and chest, showing pale skin with a few freckles and moles. To the right of the picture was a description.

_I am Niles Weston, a Detroit-based professional male dom providing services as the Dominant party for BDSM lifestyle activities to people of all genders. Scenes with me range from domestic guidance to physical and emotional sadism, and my versatile nature allows me to adapt to the needs of my submissive._

_I guarantee careful risk management and professional expertise in all my scenes. In return, I demand politeness and respect. Your submission will be appreciated and rewarded._

“That seems promising,” comments Tina, who is leaning over Gavin’s shoulder to read alongside him. “He certainly sounds like he knows what he’s doing.”

Gavin only hums in acknowledgement, intrigued by the page but not convinced by such a brief summary. He clicks through to the _taboo_ page.

_I do not engage in:_

_Sex or illegal activity of any kind._

_Intimate body worship._

_Play involving bodily fluids._

_Medical kink involving needles._

_Fire play._

_Race play._

_Age play and diaper dominance._

_Sessions with nonconsenting individuals or minors._

_Sessions with inebriated or otherwise impaired individuals._

_Any disregard for my limits or inappropriate contact with my body will result in immediate dismissal from my studio._

While Gavin had never been exposed to sexless BDSM environments, he is also well aware that none of his previous partners performed safely or followed proper etiquette for their scenes. The idea of emotional release without the pressure to perform sexually intrigues him.

The next page he visits is _services_ , which features a description followed by a detailed list of kinks covered by the Dominant in question.

_I provide bondage, discipline/correction, dominance, sadism, a master for slaves, and roleplay scenarios. My practice is safe, sane and consensual. Sessions may range from one to twenty-four hours and focus on a single kink or several in succession. I prioritize communication and professionalism with all of my clients. There will always be a safeword or hand gesture in place to tell me when your limit has been reached._

_In addition to the following list, I provide sex and kink education: seminars and workshops to help beginners and experts improve their BDSM lifestyle through simple and advanced knowledge of bondage techniques, equipment, and safety precautions. I also offer training for handlers and their pets, aspiring dominants, and service submissives._

  * _Domestic scenarios_
  * _Impact play_
  * _Breath play_
  * _Bondage and captivity_
  * _Electrical play_
  * _Sissy and slut training_
  * _Torture and catharsis_
  * _Worship and fetish indulgence_
  * _Creative roleplay, psychodrama and predicaments_
  * _Humiliation and degradation_
  * _Depilation_
  * _Orgasm control_
  * _Knife and blood play_
  * _Pet play_
  * _Tickle torture_
  * _CBT_
  * _CBB_
  * _Wax play_
  * _Human furniture_
  * _Sensory depravation_
  * _Food play_
  * _Boot worship_



Some of the things listed are definitely far outside of Gavin’s comfort zone, but he reminds himself he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want. There are definitely a few items that catch his eye, so he moves on and accesses the gallery page.

The first picture is a handsome, dark-haired man sitting on a black throne in front of a red backdrop. His posture is imposing, back straight and legs spread, wearing an expression that conveys almost no emotion – only a hint of disdain. He is dressed in a form-fitting black suit and shirt, heavy combat boots on his feet, which are planted firmly on the floor. His piercing gray eyes seem to stare into Gavin’s soul.

“Damn, he’s hot.” Gavin can’t help himself, the man is clearly his type. He is far more attractive than the partners he usually settled for, which is an added bonus to his claimed experience and professional ethics.

“He really is, look at those eyes,” Tina agrees, chin now fully resting on Gavin’s right shoulder. She shifts closer, resting a hand on his left shoulder to hold herself steady.

The second picture is the same man holding a riding crop, standing in front of a black, padded St. Andrew’s cross. It is followed by faceless pictures of submissives performing different acts of deference, but none of the images portray explicit nudity without censorship. It’s very tasteful for what it is.

“What do you think, Gav?”

“I could try it out. I mean, he seems pretty damn confident and his shit seems expensive, so that must count for something.”

Gavin is nervous. He’s starting to understand that in this situation he will have to be clear about what he wants, what he’s comfortable with, and what his limits are. Those are all things he quite frankly sucks at communicating.

“I think this will be good for you. If you don’t like it, you can always walk out and not go back, but I think this guy is way better than the trash you drag in on your own.”

“I guess,” Gavin mutters, knowing Tina is most likely right. Trying this out won’t hurt more than his personal exploits. With that in mind, he clicks on appointments. The page is exceedingly detailed, with several questions and checkboxes waiting to be filled in and checked.

_Completing this page is the best way to initiate conversation with me about a session. The information gathered here will serve to focus our planning around our areas of greatest mutual interest and compatibility._

 With a small groan of protest at the work he needs to put in just to be considered for a scene, Gavin begins to fill in the blank spaces.

**Name**

  * Gavin Reed



**E-mail Address**

  * [reed@gmail.com](mailto:gav.reed@gmail.com)



**Where do you live?**

  * Detroit, Michigan.



**Availability**

_I play on weekdays and do not accept same-day appointments unless we are acquainted already._

  * Every weekday after 4pm.



**Session length?**

Gavin stops to think on this one. He wants to push himself, try to impress the dom on their first session, but his logical mind knows that would be incredibly stupid. The whole point of this application is no longer making stupid decisions.

  * One hour.



**Interests**

“Shit,” he complains, closing his eyes. He’s never actually expressed his interests out loud or in writing outside of answering questions during sex. “Tina, help.”

“I can’t fill this in for you, Gavin, I don’t know the details of your fucked-up sex life. All I do is patch you up,” she reminds him, rubbing his shoulder encouragingly. “You don’t have to tell him everything, just what you want the first time.”

“Doesn’t that break some stupid rule about communication?”

“Omission of a kink you have isn’t the same as omitting a limit or trigger, it shouldn’t be a problem if you want to bring it up in future sessions.”

“Fuck.”

  * Impact play, bondage, sensory deprivation.



Gavin can’t bring himself to disclose more than that. He figures it’s a good start – his main thing is definitely impact play, so at least he has that base covered.

**BDSM History**

_How did you become interested in kink and BDSM? What is your experience level? How frequently do you session?_

  * I discovered early on that I enjoyed pain and submission. I’ve engaged in several kink and BDSM relationships over the last decade, but none involved a professional dom. Because of this, my scenes are inconsistently spaced apart.



**Limits**

  * I don’t enjoy verbal humiliation or name-calling. I dislike being feminized. Not into genital torture, chain floggers or wax. I don’t do feet or sounding.



**Medical Concerns**

**I fantasize about and would like to try the following activities:**

Here, there were several boxes for Gavin to check. He finds most of the items uncomfortable to even read, but obediently checks the ones that appeal to him.

  * Bondage: light
  * Bondage: heavy
  * Bondage: restrictive
  * Bondage: predicament
  * Breath play
  * Collar and leash
  * Flogging
  * Gags
  * Nipple stimulation
  * Rope bondage
  * Sensation play
  * Sex toy worship
  * Whipping



**How do you feel about marks?**

  * Marks may last a week or more.



**Are you a masochist?**

  * Yes, I can take moderate to intense pain.



**Are you a fetishist?**

  * I enjoy gloves, leather, gags and CMNM.



“What’s that last thing?”

“Uh, when your dom has all his clothes on but you’re naked,” Gavin explains in a rushed voice, cheeks heating up at the admission.

“Oh. Cool.”

**Are there any specific clothes, shoes or implements you want to have in scene?**

**Psyche**

_How would you like to feel during a session?_

Yet another question followed by numerous little boxes. His emotional needs were the hardest to confess, but only Tina and his potential dom would see this, so he powered through the embarrassment of coming clean.

  * Adored
  * Cared for
  * Helpless
  * Overwhelmed
  * Teased
  * Tenderness



**Setting**

This has two options, and Gavin chooses the first.

  * Modern dungeon



**Questions?**

**Understanding**

_I have read and understand the limits on the taboo page. I further understand that Mr. Weston does not engage in nudity, penetrative or oral sex of any kind while in session. I recognize these are Mr. Weston’s personal limits and not only a legal disclaimer. If I am not sure whether something is a limit, I will ask Mr. Weston before taking any action or risk being asked to leave the studio._

  * I understand and agree.



**May I e-mail you for further details and planning for a session?**

  * Yes, please.



**[Submit]**

“Holy shit,” Gavin exclaims and immediately exits the page. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“You have to keep me updated if he accepts.” Tina is pulling away from him, stretching out her back with her hands above her head before leaning against the couch cushions.

“I will. Shit. This must be expensive as hell.”

“Don’t be stingy, Gavin, you have the cash. You certainly make more than me.”

“I know, but it’s… an added cost, you know. I’ve been getting this shit for free for years, it feels weird to pay.”

“You’ve been getting beaten up by amateurs for years, which is really rich coming from a combat veteran.” Tina is harsh but correct, as usual, and Gavin covers his face in his hands.

“Screw you, Chen,” he comments from his hunched position, voice lacking any venom. “If this goes south it was your idea.”

“It’ll be fine. But just in case it’s not, I want to know his address and what time you’re expected to leave there if you ever go through with this.”

“You sound like my mom if she actually gave a shit.”

“You’re my brother, Gav. I don’t want to leave you alone in a dangerous situation.”

Gavin sighs and sets his laptop down on the coffee table, pushing himself up from the couch. He’s anxious and scared of rejection, but he’s also terrified of receiving a confirmation for the requested scene and being an inexperienced disappointment in the eyes of his new dom.

“How about we hit the coffee shop? I need some food after this shit.”

His favorite coffee shop is an organic, vegan-friendly place on Lafayette Avenue. Tina often complained about the lack of meat options for snacks, but she had no bad words to say about their actual coffee.

“Why not?” She concedes, not moving from her spot. “Go get dressed. Choose a light shirt, you want your back to breathe.”

Gavin grunts an acknowledgment as he makes his way upstairs. He chooses a simple gray shirt, and the movement required to get into it shoots white hot pain over his back and shoulders. He grits his teeth and powers through. Once the shirt is on, the discomfort of the fabric against the cuts isn’t so bad.

It’s warm for a spring day in Detroit, so he chooses to forgo a jacket altogether. The plan is not to stay out late, so that decision should prove harmless in the long run.

He pockets his wallet and keys, then returns to the living room with a pair of shoes in hand, sitting on the couch to slip them on. Tina is silent, scrolling through something on her phone as she waits for him to get ready.

“Okay. Ready.”

They stand at the same time, Tina stopping to retrieve her own personal items from the coffee table before proceeding to the door. They take Gavin’s car purely for comfort’s sake. The day returns to some semblance of normality, easing Gavin back into a more secure state of mind.

After two weeks of checking his personal e-mail every day before and after work, he starts to lose hope. Niles had clearly read his application and thought him to be too safe, too inexperienced to be worth his time. He starts considering relapsing into his usual bad habits when a (1) notification pops up on his phone.

Surely enough, it’s from Niles Weston, subject line _Scene Negotiation_. As Gavin reads it, renewed tension settles in his shoulders, painfully locking the muscles. He decides not to open the e-mail in his work office, as it would be terrible for his employees to see him flustered in any way. He puts his phone down on his desk and ignores the message for now.

He arrives home at five that afternoon, taking time to brew himself a cup of calming tea before settling in front of his computer and opening his e-mail again. It’s easier to read this kind of thing on a bigger screen anyway.

 _Hello, Gavin_ , the message starts. The tone is respectful but already establishing a certain power imbalance through Niles’s use of Gavin’s first name on their first contact.

_I reviewed the form you submitted to my website and found our interests compatible. There are some specifics I would like to discuss before I consider going scheduling an appointment and I greatly appreciate your open cooperation so we may make this an enjoyable experience for both parties._

_I noticed that you listed few interests in the essay question, but were more open when offered pre-established answers. As we are discussing our first scene together, I would like you to be clear on which of these interests you are fully comfortable exploring during a potential encounter._

_Your lack of experience with a professional makes me reluctant to induce intense pain during our first session. I would like to learn your tolerance by building up to it, and your requested one-hour session leaves little room for true exploration. I will trust your word and my judgment to make the final call, but should you desire a more fulfilling experience I strongly recommend a longer scene. I understand if that is not possible due to scheduling or budget limitations._

_Your psyche section needs suggest the desire for physical submission and catharsis through emotional validation. It is common, when praising my submissives for a job well done, for me to use terms of endearment. Do you find this agreeable? Is there any word I should avoid using in this situation?_

_We will discuss your safeword and emergency stop gestures if and when the scene is set to happen. However, if you wish to inform me of them in advance, feel free to add them in your reply to this e-mail._

_The most important thing I need to know at this point in our negotiation is your relationship with aftercare. I would like you to detail what works for you, what you think might work, and what is uncomfortable or off-limits after a scene._

_This information is vital so I know no real harm has been done by the end of our time together. Feel free to be as descriptive as possible._

_At last, I should inform you of my hourly rate. The cost of one hour is three hundred dollars. However, I offer a fifty-dollar discount for first experiences as a sign of good will._

_I look forward to our continued negotiation._

_Niles Weston_

It’s a lot of information to take in. Should Gavin had expected something so detailed and eloquent? Perhaps, considering the man’s website. It still came as a surprise. Not only that, but being called out on desiring emotional validation made him fidget.

He clicks the reply button, but ends up staring at the white screen for nearly ten minutes. He’s not eloquent enough to match Niles’s message, not open enough with himself to write everything out without Tina’s forceful encouragement. Finally, he forces himself to type _something_.

 _Mr. Weston_ , he writes what he hopes is an appropriate way to refer to the man. If he’s forced to call him Master this is not going to work.

_Thank you for taking an interest in me. I’m happy to clear up things that weren’t in the questionnaire, but discussing scenes in detail like this is kind of a new thing for me._

_I think I’d be okay with getting tied up and I’m fine with all kinds of impact play I checked, but maybe we can leave breath and sensation play out the first time. It’s a lot of trust to put in someone on a first time, I hope you don’t mind._

_I can spare the time for two hours if you really think it would make a big difference. I’m prepared to follow your guidance until I have a better idea of what I’m doing._

Two hours will cost him a lot of money. Gavin cringes at the thought of dishing out nearly six hundred dollars for one night of indulging his masochism, briefly wondering if he should just ghost the guy. In the end, his curiosity is what gets him to press on.

 _I don’t mind pet names._ He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t mention how much he loves the sound of praise, how it makes all the fight drain out of him.

_As for aftercare, I don’t usually get much of that. I need water after a scene, but not much more._

Gavin doesn’t think he’s lying – he can’t admit to himself that he craves touch and reassurance. That’s a step too far, he’s already torn his heart open for this stranger.

_Your rate is acceptable. What else do you need to know?_

_Gavin Reed_

If Gavin is truly honest, his rate is not acceptable. It’s tolerable, of course, but he had expected to shell out maybe two hundred dollars at most. He can already see it – the experience is going to suck and he’ll be left sorely regretting the waste of money.

In the long run, that amount wouldn’t even make a dent in his bank account. There is no way he’d indulge in his fantasies if they destabilized his finances. He reminds himself of that, impulsively pulling up his bank balance as he has every day since he was too poor to afford food.

The numbers on the screen are expected. He’s safe. He’s stable. This is a luxury he can afford.

He expects to wait another week at least before receiving a reply, but the notification of a new e-mail from Weston pops up on his phone just after dinner.

_Gavin,_

_I fully understand your reluctance to engage in riskier kinks before a trusting bond is established. You do not have to worry about displeasing me by stating your limitations, it is quite the opposite._

_Your willingness to adapt to my recommendations is noted and appreciated. Your response did, however, raise some red flags concerning your experience with aftercare. Every submissive has their own preferred method of aftercare, but to go without any at all after a physically and/or emotionally intense scene is neglecting one’s health. I refuse to continue should you insist on no aftercare, as it goes against my rules as a dom._

_I urge you to think of sensations you find pleasant and things you take comfort in. I will also accept it if you trust me enough to discover what works for you through trial and error._

_If you can do that, the rest should be simple enough. What I need to know is what you expect from me. I can tell you I expect respect and deference, but not a passive bystander. I expect you to be a participant in the scene, be proactive, communicative, challenging. Do not fight me for dominance but understand that you are not a doormat._

_Niles Weston_

Gavin feels guilty for answering in a way that displeased Weston, wonders if he should include a proper apology in his reply. The words on the screen don’t convey anger, only… disappointment. The last thing Gavin wants is to disappoint him this early on.

The last paragraph draws a sigh of relief from him. He’s not one to submit in silence, as much as he enjoys the sensation of being helpless under another man. Knowing Weston wants a challenge, he feels his confidence rise.

_Mr. Weston,_

_I want to apologize for alarming you. None of my previous doms have placed such great importance on my comfort, so I don’t really know what I need after a scene. I can say I enjoy feeling warm, and I always make myself some food to help wind down after being beaten. Other than that, I’ll let you try anything you think will help._

_I’m not really sure what I expect from this._

Gavin swallows thickly. Oh. So he’s being honest now. He continues that paragraph.

_I’m not really sure what I expect from this. I came to you because my previous relationship with kink was unhealthy, I don’t have a good framework of what should happen when it’s done properly._

_There are some things I haven’t mentioned because I thought you might disapprove. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but at times I lash out verbally. I can just not do this if you think it will ruin the scene. I like being forced to submit._

_Is that out of line?_

_Gavin Reed_

Admitting all of that is extremely difficult. Gavin hesitates to send the e-mail once it’s written, wanting to erase it and type something nice and conforming in hopes he’ll be seen as a proper submissive instead of a bondage tourist. As soon as it’s sent, he closes his laptop and pushes it away from him, needing to take a deep breath.

 _This man is going to kill me_ , he texts Tina as soon as he regains some of his composure. He immediately follows that up with a second text: _Not literally_.

 _Did he get back to you?_ Her response indicates she knows exactly what he means even after two weeks.

_Yeah. I think this is happening. Haven’t met him yet and he’s already fucking with my head._

_Elaborate_ , she replies, probably concerned over his phrasing but knowing him well enough not to jump to conclusions.

_He’s eloquent and even though I haven’t heard his voice he sounds dominant. In his e-mails. It’s weird as fuck._

_So you don’t hate me for setting this up?_

_I could never hate you, Teeny. Now shut up._

_You’re the one who texted me._

_Go the fuck to sleep._

Gavin doesn’t bother turning off his laptop, he knows he’ll be back on it as soon as the sun rises. He slips his phone under his pillow and strips away his jeans, tossing them onto the unoccupied half of the bed before slipping under the covers to sleep.

His night is uncomfortable and restless, as is expected by now. Waking up with bags under his eyes is nothing new, his insomnia had only gotten worse once he left the army. Work helped, play helped, but nothing could solve the problem.

Gavin’s alarm goes off at five-thirty in the morning. He has enough discipline not to hit the snooze button or give in to the temptation of throwing his phone across the room.

He rolls onto his side and opens his unread text messages, reading through them as quickly as he can and replying only to the important ones. He knows he should have coffee before addressing any work-related issues, but he needs to be at the office in two hours and it’s easier to make his trip downstairs once he’s already awake and ready to head out the door.

The next step is to open his laptop and check his work e-mail. As usual, there are a few high-profile clients requesting a meeting with him to discuss short or long-term contracts, and Gavin’s starting to think he really needs to hire a personal secretary to answer these things for him.

He spends at least forty minutes propped up on his pillows answering e-mails. The level of tact and diplomacy required to deal with the people who seek his services is far outside his comfort zone, but Gavin knows there’s no one he can trust not to fuck it up. Only one person could screen a secretary qualified enough to handle what Gavin does and he has no intention of contacting that man.

He doesn’t check his personal e-mail. The only substantial thing that might come into that inbox is a reply from Weston, and Gavin is not dealing with that baggage before a full day of work.

Gavin dresses in the same jeans he wore the day before, not bothering to change his shirt either. As far as he’s concerned, one day with no sweat isn’t enough to warrant a fresh outfit.

He leaves the bed unmade as he slips into his shoes, gabs his bag and checks its contents. Exercise clothes, a tablet he used exclusively for task lists and calendars, a pack of his favorite double dark chocolate nut protein bars and, of course, his pistol.

The bag is slung over his right shoulder as he descends the stairs, only to be tossed on the kitchen counter. He has one hour and ten minutes to arrive at work and the drive should take him half an hour, so he brews a pot of his favorite Colombian coffee and makes toast from whole wheat bread, which is then covered in strawberry chia seed jam.

Gavin often wishes he had time to cook more elaborate meals during the week, but there is a restaurant near his headquarters that more than makes up for his slack at home. Lunch is always something to look forward to.

By the time he reaches headquarters, Allen is already conducting drills on the grounds. Gavin passes by him with a nod of acknowledgment, his silent way of recognizing the man’s hard work to keep his soldiers on the line and prepared for their duties.

His office is on the top floor of the main building, so he takes an elevator to reach it. The company’s secretary is sitting at her desk and typing away at the computer. The desk is covered in papers and sticky notes of all colors, but Gavin knows better than to berate her for the mess – she works well in her organized chaos, that's what matters.

“Hello, Mr. Reed,” she greets as soon as she spots him, wearing a polished, professional smile.

“Good morning, Traci. Have the latest reports on our overseas personnel come in yet?”

“I’m afraid not. However, I have completed the list of soldiers we’re set to deploy to Alaska for that big oil rig contract. I have also received a letter containing positive feedback from the prime minister of Sri Lanka, as written by his assistant.”

“Forward the list to me. If the feedback is good, put it out there. If it’s bad, just trash it.” Gavin will stress over the delayed reports later in the day.

“There is one more thing. A man called Jeffrey Fowler phoned in to speak to you on a personal matter. I informed him that this is a work-only line, but he insisted on leaving a message with his number.”

“Holy shit,” he can’t stop his grin. “He’s a fucking ghost coming back to haunt me. Give me the number, I’ll call the fucker right away.”

“Of course, sir.” Traci pulls one of the blue sticky notes from the bottom of her computer screen, handing it to him. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, thanks.” Gavin looks at the paper for a long moment before walking past Traci’s desk, through the glass doors that lead to his office. The entire space is decorated in brown and black – wooden desk, bookshelf, and private meeting table with black chairs and a slick black wall as a visual accent. The only pop of color was the bright green of the potted devil’s ivy hanging by the wide window.

He likes his office as much as he could ever like a space that confines him to a chair. Paperwork is definitely the second worst part of running a company – the first was navigating all the international laws that addressed this kind of operation.

Gavin’s favorite days were those when his schedule was free and he could conduct his own drills or join his men in the shooting range. Of course, butting his nose into their training usually means uncomfortable moments with Allen, which sometimes even escalates into fights over what constitutes the foundations of military discipline. The irony of his employee’s insubordination is not lost on Gavin.

Despite their disagreements, Allen does a good job of keeping everyone sharp and physically fit. He knows his exercises, combat routines and he’s a good shot, so Gavin isn’t about to fire him over some tongue-lashings.

Settling down into his comfortable chair, Gavin dials Fowler’s number from his phone. He hadn’t seen or heard from the man in ten years, which made the unexpected contact even more exciting.

“Fowler speaking.”

“You motherfucker. How did you find me?” His words are full of glee, followed by a short laugh. He’s not used to that voice anymore.

“Gavin, that’s no way to speak to your superior officer,” Fowler reminds him, but the annoyance in his tone is minimal. “I’ve been meaning to get in touch with you for a while. The boys have been throwing your name around ever since you made it big.”

“You can’t give me disciplinary warnings anymore, Jeffrey. It’s great to hear your voice again, particularly when you’re not yelling at me.”

“Very funny. What do you say we meet up, maybe you show me around that fancy compound you built?”

“I don’t see why not. Let me check my calendar.”

“That is the prissiest thing I have ever heard you say, Reed.”

“I’m a busy man, you asshole,” he barks back, setting the call on speaker so he can reach into his bag for the tablet that contains all his scheduled responsibilities. “I don’t have any meetings on Friday, if you’re free early in the afternoon we could meet up for lunch and then I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“Friday is great. Text me an address and I’ll meet you there.”

“Deal.”

The conversation gives Gavin renewed energy to get through the day. As fucked up as it is, his combat years had been the most emotionally stable periods in his life. Anything that set his mind back to the raw survival instinct he ran on in those days was welcome.

He powers through the reading he needs to do, reviews important contracts and ensures the swift assembly of the team he’s sending to the new oil rig in Alaska. His only break is at noon, and he spends it at his favorite restaurant, eating an eggplant-based meatless moussaka for lunch.

By the time work is over, Gavin feels mentally exhausted but physically energetic, so he delays his return home and drives to Tina’s dojo. She closes up at six, so he has plenty of time to catch her last class and perhaps treat them to sparring match between the two of them.

Not only does he do that, he stays after her students leave and tells her about Fowler. Tina had been much more in line with their superiors during the war, and she’s pleased to hear Gavin’s accomplishments got him recognized by someone that important to both of them.

Of course, the day’s excitement had made him completely forget about one Niles Weston. Then Tina brings him up and Gavin slumps back against a pillar with a loud groan.

“Do we have to talk about him?”

“Are you having second thoughts or is this just your anxiety spiking?” Tina asks, hanging her sword back on the wall.

“Neither. I’m just embarrassed, this whole fucking situation is humiliating.” He runs his hand over his face, stretching the skin with the force of his pull. “I told him a bunch of shit I shouldn’t have about how I have no idea what the fuck I’m getting into.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate your honesty. Are you scared he’ll turn you down?”

“Jesus, Chen, do you know me?” _Of course I am_ , he doesn’t say. Gavin lacks the emotional maturity to handle rejection and he is well aware of that.

“Sorry I asked.” Tina raises both hands in surrender, then drops to sit cross-legged on the mat. “Come here.”

Gavin sits down in front of her, so close their legs almost touch. She places a hand on his knee and rubs it reassuringly.

“What was the last thing he said?”

“I haven’t checked. Not today, I mean,” he clarifies.

“You should. Come on, do it while I’m with you.”

Gavin sighs his defeat and reaches for his phone. There are three new e-mails in his personal inbox. The first is from LinkedIn, subject line these are the world’s happiest countries; the second is an UberEATS coupon; the third, finally, is a reply from Niles Weston.

_Gavin,_

_I have concerns about proceeding with this negotiation, but you have been honest with me and so I would be negligent to turn you away without careful consideration._

_If we develop a working trust, I will teach you how to connect to your kinks in a healthy, safe manner. I cannot blame you for being a victim to the abuse of power by people who claim to be Dominants._

_You are not out of line. Even if I refuse to perform one of your desires, it is good for me to know them. I do not have a problem with bratty submissives or the need to use force. It is something I take great enjoyment in doing._

_Would you be amenable to meeting in person so we may discuss any additional concerns and details before scheduling your session?_

_Niles Weston_

“Oh fuck.” Gavin stares at the small screen, thoughts racing. He’s going to agree to this meeting and either Weston will blow him away or disappoint him by not living up to the expectations established by their extensive communication.

Tina is clearly curious, sitting patiently and watching him, so he passes the phone to her without a word and allows her to read through the entire e-mail.

“Does this guy not know what a contraction is?”

Gavin snorts despite his rising anxiety because that is such a Tina thing to focus on.

“I told you he’s all formal and shit.”

“I thought you were being dramatic,” she explains, returning his phone. “Write him back. You have to set this date.”

“Don’t call it a date, Chen, it’s not like that.”

“Dumbass, I mean date as in ‘time and date’.” Tina rolls her eyes, leaning back on her hands and tilting her head.

“Oh.” Gavin has the decency to look apologetic. He taps the screen to reply, typing in the greeting before even thinking of what to say.

_Mr. Weston,_

_I don’t know how to thank you for sticking with me. I was scared you’d write me off after that. I’m excited to go forward with this arrangement._

_Meeting up would be great. Is the weekend okay? If not, I’m only available after 4pm._

_Gavin Reed_

“I hate this honesty shit,” Gavin practically whines after sending the e-mail.

“Please. He has you wrapped around his finger and you haven’t even met him.”

“What if his voice is goofy? Or if he talks weird, different from how he writes? Or what if he’s _short_? Shit, I couldn’t take him seriously if that happened.”

“Jesus, Gav. Get a grip.” Tina laughs, likely picturing the man who looks so imposing in photographs being shorter than Gavin. That would be a treat. “If you don’t vibe with him in real life, you don’t have to go through with it. You keep talking as if you have no choice. There are other people who do this work out there.”

“It’s not easy to just… ‘not vibe’ with someone who knows your darkest secrets.”

“Dear, we both know those are not your darkest secrets. They’re just some embarrassing power fantasies you’re too proud to voice.”

“Fuck you, why do you have to say shit like that?”

“Because I’m your friend and I’m trying to keep you grounded.”

“Ugh. Thanks, Teeny.”

They end up going out for dinner together, this time to a restaurant that catered to both their diets. The sight and smell of meat does not bother Gavin, so he’s unfazed when Tina cuts into a medium rare steak that drips with juices as the knife goes through. It’s not something he misses, either. His choice of lasagna is perfectly balanced.

He’s on his last bite when his phone vibrates. He takes the time to clean his plate before reaching for the device, looking up to meet Tina’s eyes after reading the notification.

“He wrote back.”

“What are you waiting for, then?” Tina smiles, licking the red sheen of a wine reduction from her lips.

“I’m getting to it.”

_Gavin,_

_How about dinner on Saturday? We can meet at a restaurant and proceed from there. I would like to choose the establishment, but if you feel uncomfortable meeting me for the first time on my terms, I am flexible to your suggestions._

_Niles Weston_

“He wants to have dinner,” Gavin announces after a minute of tense silence.

“So?” Tina tilts her head, lowering her fork back onto her empty plate. “What’s the big deal?”

“I’m going to have to mention… you know.”

“Gavin, goddamn it, you’ve been vegan for years and you can’t even say the word?”

“Shut up. It’s embarrassing,” he hisses, not wanting anyone to overhear.

“Gav. You just told this guy you want him to force you into submission and you’re afraid he’s going to judge you because you eat weird?” Tina is careful to keep her voice down, but her expression is a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

“Fuck you. God, fuck you,” Gavin closes his eyes, leaning his head back and exhaling slowly. “You have a point and I hate you for that.”

“You’re welcome, dear. What do you want for dessert? I’ll order while you type.”

“Just… y’know, nothing. I don’t think I can stomach sweets right now.”

“Okay.”

 _Mr. Weston_ , Gavin starts, as he always does.

_That sounds good. I’d rather pick the place, not from lack of trust but for limitations in my diet._

Gavin stops typing to open up his browser and search the restaurant he wants to visit with Weston, copying the address and pasting it into the e-mail.

_Does 8pm at 8029 Agnes St work for you?_

_Gavin Reed_

“Let me see,” Tina extends her hand over the table, looking at him expectantly.

“Why?”

“Come on, don’t be an ass.”

“Fine,” Gavin sighs and passes his phone over, rolling his eyes when Tina barks out a laugh. “Before you say shit – fuck off.”

“’Limitations in my diet’? Seriously?” She shakes her head, smile fixed on her face. “Damn, Gavin.”

“Can we just go?”

“Sure, but I’m not dropping this yet,” she teases.

They don’t have to wait long for one of the waiters to approach the table, Tina politely asking for the tab. They split the bill equally between them and Gavin returns to the dojo with her to pick up his car, waving off any further comments about his upcoming encounter with Weston.

There is only one more answer from Weston before the weekend – a confirmation that Gavin’s pick of place and time was acceptable for their meeting. The lull in communication allows Gavin to focus heavily on his work, finally receiving and reviewing his requested reports, attending several meetings, signing a few new contracts.

The one free day he has is Friday, which is reserved exclusively for Fowler. In truth, Gavin doesn’t know what to expect from the man all these years after their service together, but his excitement is palpable. In contrast, he is also incredibly insecure about their place of meeting, knowing Fowler is likely to make a case of his eating habits.

He should not have offered lunch.

Gavin does his best to push those worries aside, knowing that they are minor things in the grand scheme of his relationship with the Major. The man had guided Gavin through eighteen months of hell, ensured he had the clarity of mind to carry out every mission, securing his place as one of the reasons he looked back on those months with some level of sentimentality. In the end, war was easy: he followed orders and was rewarded for it.

He meets Fowler at the restaurant at half past noon. He greets the man expecting a firm handshake, not the hug he’s pulled into.

“Getting sentimental, old man?” Gavin laughs it off as they part, motioning for Fowler to lead the way to their table.

“I may have missed your bullshit more than I let on, Reed,” Fowler concedes, shrugging his shoulders as he pulls out a chair to sit on. “Seems you’ve made a name for yourself.”

“Yeah. Got pretty lucky.” Gavin sits across from him, resting his clasped hands on the table. He smiles at the server who immediately comes to attend them, a boy comfortable enough to address him by name already.

They make easy conversation as they look over the menus, with Gavin settling for his usual salad and stuffed mushrooms. Fowler grumbles over the lack of meat options, but ends up ordering the tofu steak.

“You know,” Fowler starts, while they wait for their meals, “I don’t think luck had much to do with your business. You were a good soldier. A stubborn, hot-headed ass, but a good soldier.”

“Being a soldier has shit-all to do with running a company,” Gavin replies. “Learned that one the hard way. I even had to take a fucking course on it, just to be sure I was doing things right, and even then, I rely on accountants and lawyers to help me deal with it.”

“So, you still haven’t gotten through your thick skull that your team doesn’t make you weak, huh? That was the one thing I couldn’t drill into your head no matter how many times I said it.”

“To be fair, most of the guys on our team were assholes,” he frowned, tapping his fingers against the wooden table. “If it weren’t for Tina, I would have taken some teeth.”

“Didn’t you break Carlin’s front tooth?” Fowler asks, clearly amused by the memory despite his white rage at the time of the event.

“He had it coming. Tried funny business with Tina and you know how no one gave a shit about due process when it came to that.”

“I don’t disagree.”

“You gave me a disciplinary warning and yelled at me in front of the whole troop,” Gavin reminds him, annoyed.

“I was your commanding officer. Justified or not, you assaulted another soldier, I did my job. Let’s not hold grudges, Reed, or I’d hate your guts for undermining my authority.”

“Fine, sorry. I know I gave you a lot of shit, but I was… dealing with some stuff. It was worse on my first tour, you’re lucky you weren’t there. I think what got me through the second was having you and Tina there, you kept me in line.”

“Hm. Speaking of Chen, are you two still an item? You can’t seem to shut up about her.” Fowler smiles, obviously well-intentioned, but the question makes Gavin squirm.

“About that,” Gavin pauses, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue as he tries to think of what to say. His anxiety spikes. This could go badly. “Tina and I were never a thing. I mean, we… kept each other company, you know, but I’m gay.”

“Oh. Sorry for assuming.” Fowler doesn’t seem bothered by the news, simply offering an apologetic smile.

“You just assumed what we wanted you to. DADT was some brutal shit back then.” Gavin sighs, shaking his head. “Don’t really want to talk about it. What have you been up to, Major?”

“Colonel, actually,” Fowler corrects him. “I retired last year. I’ve been a boring old man lately, spending time with my family and visiting doctors more often than I’d like.”

Their food arrives. Fowler seems pleasantly surprised by his choice, and continues the conversation to proudly talk about his family and what he’s accomplished in the last decade. He asks questions about Gavin’s personal life, most of which receive vague answers, and then shifts the focus to his company.

Gavin easily slips into the subject, talking about their corporate headquarters and his other four regional offices, the in-compound drills they run with select teams of soldiers, the training courses offered – which range from firearm safety and usage to medical field training. Though he prefers the tactical aspect of the job, his company is his child, his pride, and he does his best to paint it in a good light.

After lunch, Gavin leads Fowler to the compound where his corporate headquarters share space with primary training grounds, an area repurposed from old industrial warehouses into a brand-new collection of buildings.

They visit the open grounds first, then the firing range, making their way through the ground level operations as they pass classrooms and the armory. The last thing Gavin shows him is the office space, taking him through the employees’ cubicles first before leading him into his personal office.

Traci is there to greet them with fresh coffee, made to Gavin’s specifications with his own favorite brand. They spend the rest of the afternoon in the office, reminiscing about the war and everything they went through together.

At the end of the day, Gavin is exhausted. He indulges in a hot shower, allowing himself the rare pleasure of letting the water cascade over him for minutes before truly washing his body. He makes tea and combs through all the work e-mails he ignored throughout the afternoon, then settles into bed and calls Tina.

She indulges him in their own joined war memories for a time, but steers him away from them when the topic gets dark. Instead, she chooses to tease him about his encounter with Weston, easily establishing their playful back-and-forth. That lightness is what eases him to sleep.

It’s not a restful night by any means, but it’s better than most. Four hours of uninterrupted sleep, another three in between breathless waking moments, and Gavin is set for the day. He spends his morning at the gym after a hearty breakfast, takes time to prepare his own lunch, and even relaxes in the living room with one of his cheesy movies.

The sun is setting when he selects fresh clothes and changes into them: a dark wash pair of jeans and a gray V-neck t-shirt. He combs his hair and tries to get the unruly strands away from his face, but some insist on falling forward. He gives up.

It’s five minutes to eight when he arrives at Detroit Vegan Soul, an exposed brick building with large windows and a black angled awning over the front entrance. The sign is round, black and green with elegant brown letters.

Gavin asks for a table for two, giving his name to the server and telling him who he’s expecting. The moment the clock turns to eight, Niles Weston walks through the door. He’s led by the waiter to their table, and Gavin stands to greet him with an extended hand.

“Gavin.” Weston takes his hand and shakes it firmly, then both of them sit. “It is good to finally meet you.”

“Yeah. Yes, it’s… nice to meet you.” Gavin smiles somewhat awkwardly, trying not to overthink the situation. All his fears had been unfounded. Weston is tall, his jawline strong and defined, his eyes piercing. His voice is not disappointing in the least. The way he holds himself shows he can command any situation. “Sorry about the place.”

“Do not apologize. I have no problem with alternative diets, and this place is said to be very good.” Weston flips open the menu, eyes skimming over the options. “Have you been well this week?”

“Huh? Yeah, just busy with work.” Gavin tilts his head to the side, then mirrors the man’s actions and looks at his own menu.

“You certainly seem to have a lot of responsibilities,” Weston commented, humming a note as he read the ingredients on a plate that caught his attention.

“I do. Wait- how do you know that?” Gavin frowns and looks up at him, but Weston does not shift his attention from the pages.

“You provided me with your real name. It’s an impressive show of trust or a very curious mistake. Either way, I searched your name to be safe, I can never know enough about my clients. I apologize if this makes you uncomfortable.”

“Oh. No, that makes sense.” He looks at Weston a moment longer, then goes back to reading. There aren’t many options that fit his personal preferences, but there are enough for him to feel comfortable ordering a full meal.

When they’re ready to order, the server comes by and writes down each of their choices. They agree to share the hummus platter as a starter. Gavin follows it up with a sesame kale salad and a soul platter - mac-n-cheese, tenderly smoked collards, maple glazed yams, black eyed peas and a cornbread muffin. Weston goes for the community garden salad and the seitan pepper steak.

“Do you mind if I ask where you served?” Weston breaks the silence after their orders, finally meeting Gavin’s eyes with an impassive yet inquisitive expression.

“No. Uh, I did a year in Afghanistan right out of high school. After that I was stationed at a base for a few months, then I came home and went back for another tour in Iraq. That one lasted eighteen months.”

“That’s a long time. I imagine it was at the start of the war.”

“Yeah.” Gavin nods, losing himself in thought for a few seconds. “It was.”

“Why did you join the armed forces?”

“That’s a good fucking question,” Gavin replies, then catches himself and has the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry.”

“I’m not offended by foul language. Please continue.”

“Oh. I guess I wasn’t ever good at anything, you know? I was… average in school, didn’t want to go to college, couldn’t afford it anyway. Uh,” he pauses, looking around them before focusing on Weston again. “I was a shit kid. I needed the discipline, I had nowhere else to go, and so I signed up. I’ve always been a good fighter, and I may be an ass but I know when to follow orders. Getting used to the guns was easy. Getting used to the killing… that wasn’t.”

“I cannot begin to imagine the weight of taking a life.”

“You said it. Didn’t matter, though, I was good at it. My friend Tina joined the army because she wanted to help people, protect the country, same old bullshit advertised on every screen. I didn’t have any delusions about the army, I knew what I was getting into and I didn’t care. I just wanted to be useful.”

Gavin clicks his tongue once he’s done talking, his sight not quite focused. These are things he’s said out loud many times, but only ever to Tina. Unlike his best friend, Weston stands at the odd cross-section of being a complete stranger and knowing more about Gavin than any of the people who see him on a daily basis.

“It seems you proved yourself,” Weston finally adds, watching Gavin carefully through his whole answer. “You must have some additional talents to have made Attila what it is today.”

“I surprised myself with that one,” Gavin admits. “When I came back home I was… a mess, really. So, I thought of what I could do, called up some of my buddies from the army, we started a security company. It grew pretty fast. Allen had the idea of offering classes, we built our first building to hold the offices, in a couple of years we had two blocks worth of space. I’m not sure how the fuck we got this big.”

“I think you give yourself too little credit.”

“Hmpf. What about you? What got you into… your business?”

“It was a natural progression,” Weston starts, smoothing down the tablecloth with both hands. “My mother was very strict when it came to academics. For most of my teenage years, I had little freedom. Naturally, when I came of age, I wanted to explore my newfound liberty, particularly once I moved into my own apartment. I started going out to clubs, but they weren’t quite to my tastes, and then one day a friend invited me to a fetish convention because she did not want to go alone.”

“So you just fell into it?” Gavin asks, disbelieving. That seems oddly simple.

“In a way. I was intrigued by everything I saw at the convention, all the people talking about their experiences, their strange desires, their unique relationships. I admit I might have been in over my head when I began to explore things for myself. My mother had always taught me to research every interest of mine to make the most of it, and while I am sure she disapproves of this one, I did just that. I read every piece of information I could, spoke to people in the scene, visited a dungeon every chance I got. Eventually, they hired me to work the desk, then I studied under a dominatrix with two decades of experience. She taught me most of what I know today. Since then, I have kept up the habit of attending classes and workshops around the country to improve my skills.”

“Oh. That’s a lot. Did you ever consider working in another field?”

“For a time. Not since I opened my studio. I plan to carry on working there for as long as it is sustainable, or as long as my body and mind permit.”

“You seem pretty damn young, so I guess you’ll be doing that shit for decades,” Gavin comments, surprised when it draws a smile to Weston’s lips.

“You are correct. I pride myself in being skillful for my age.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm. I do not presume to be above my peers, but I can fully guarantee the quality of my service.” Weston’s smile twists into a smirk, barely perceptible but still present.

“I guess that’s why I wrote to you.”

Before their conversation can continue, the server appears with waters and a platter of black-eyed pea hummus, pita, cucumbers, olives and pickled beets. They both thank him, then proceed to slowly pick at the plate while continuing their conversation.

“Tell me, Gavin, what can you share with me about your previous experiences?”

“I- shit. Okay, look, you may have gotten some of this already but I guess I have to come out and say it. I’m not good at… at this vulnerability stuff. Talking about it, at least.”

“You have been very open with me up to this point,” Weston reminds him, dipping a piece of pita into the hummus. “I do not wish to pressure you to sate my curiosity.”

“I wish I could tell you. It’s just… a lot of crap.”

“You know, it is customary for us to refuse service to people who carry too much emotional baggage. You should seek out a therapist before seeking play.”

“Been there. Doesn’t help,” Gavin admits, feeling the cold pool of dread in his stomach. They can’t have come this far for Weston to turn him away.

“If I see you cannot handle our scenes, I will deny you service. However, I am willing to go forward with this arrangement until the day that happens.”

“Oh.” He swallows, nodding. “Okay.”

“Now, are there any questions you have for me? I know you answered negative in your e-mail, but I must ask again.”

“Uh,” Gavin hesitates, taking the time to eat some of the beets as he considers his answer. “How should I refer to you?”

“You may address me by my first name outside our scenes. During a scene, my preferred title is ‘sir’.”

“I know I said I don’t mind marks, but I don’t want anything permanent. Is that okay?”

“Of course. Only irresponsible people scar their submissives without explicit consent beforehand.”

“Right.” Gavin nods, licking his lips. “What… I mean, have you ever made mistakes before?”

“Did you research what to ask me?” Niles asks, eyebrows slightly raised. He seems oddly pleased. “I have. Every dominant has made mistakes.”

“Yeah, I did. Uh. Can you tell me about them?”

“The worst ones came when I was starting out. I was overconfident and ended up harming my submissive during impact play. After that, I requested special instruction so it would never happen again. Then… I used to tie my ropes too tight, which can be dangerous. Thankfully I was called out on that early on.”

“What do you think about discipline and punishment?” This is a hard question to get out. Gavin doesn’t quite know where to draw the line between his genuine enjoyment of pain and his need for redemption through it, so it is something that needs to be discussed.

“I believe each dynamic has its own set of rules. We have yet to establish ours, and so I cannot make any grand statements about punishments for you.” Niles pauses to take another bite from the food, the platter now almost cleared. “You desire physical pain and emotional acceptance, that much is clear. But you have not specified any requests for discipline. I am flying in the dark.”

“I find it difficult to submit. I know I already said that, I- I want you to push me, but I also want to learn. I want to be able to… just do it.” Gavin shifts his gaze away, pressure mounting in his chest with every word. “I don’t know how to get there.”

“What do you take from impact play?”

“It’s… the easiest way to get me into subspace. It feels like I’m high, and there’s this rush of energy afterwards. I feel fully aware of my body. It makes me feel closer to my dom. Like he could break me but he won’t.”

“Hm, so it helps you build trust when a scene ends well.”

“Except they rarely do,” Gavin mutters, closing his eyes.

“Gavin, look at me,” Niles instructs, voice still gentle and patient. Gavin obeys. “I will not permit our experiences to reflect the failures of your past doms.”

“I know,” Gavin replies, smiling softly. “I mean, I think I know that. You seem competent enough and not like an asshole.”

“Thank you. I cherish your trust.” Niles leans back in his chair, clearly considering his next words with care. “Where do you prefer to be struck?”

“My back, thighs, ass.” Gavin replies rather stiffly, looking around to ensure that no one is overhearing their conversation.

“How do you feel about blows to your chest?”

“I- I actually never tried that. I’m open to it.”

“Okay. Face?”

“That’s a bit much.”

“Understood.” Niles turns his head as the server approaches again, setting their salads down on the table and carrying away the empty starter platter.

Their conversation lulls as they focus on the food, but picks up again once only a few stray leaves are left on each plate. Niles is naturally the one to lead it.

“This one is important: do you prefer thud or sting toys?”

“I’m not sure I know the difference.”

“Thud toys are those with harder impact, sting toys create a sharper pain,” Niles explains.

“Thud, then. I like both but too much stinging can get tiring quick.”

“Is there any toy you don’t want me to use?”

 “I’m not big on the cane. Never used it before, don’t think I want to start now.”

“How do you feel about nipple play?” Niles asks, taking a long sip of his water.

“I never used toys on them. I… like having them played with.” Gavin is blushing, he has been for some time, but it darkens as he thinks about how sensitive he can be. “I’ve always been curious about clamps.”

“Hm,” Niles hums, and now it’s his turn to ensure no servers or customers are within hearing range. “You mentioned an interest in erotic toys, but not orgasm control. Do you wish to receive that kind of stimulus during our scenes?”

“Fuck,” Gavin chokes out, avoiding Niles’s eyes. “I don’t know. Didn’t you say you don’t do sex?”

“Oh, I have no issue with my submissives stimulating their own bodies. I will even lend a hand when the scene calls for it. What I do not engage in is direct sexual contact with my body.”

“I- how about we just… see how it goes?” Gavin suggests, too embarrassed to even consider giving him a direct answer.

“As you wish,” Niles replies, reassuring him. “We can always stop if you dislike it.”

“Yeah. Oh, the food.”

Finally, their main courses are delivered to the table. The conversation turns lighter as they enjoy the peak of their meal, with most important questions now out of the way. Gavin stops halfway through his soul platter to complain about the dryness of the cornbread, but eats the whole thing anyway.

Once their plates are cleared, Niles orders the apple cake and Gavin passes on dessert, explaining he’s not big on sugar. He’s tempted to order a coffee, but that would disrupt his already struggling sleep schedule.

“There is one thing I nearly forgot to ask,” Niles comments between bites of his cake. “Given your vegan diet, what would you like me to have on hand after our scene?”

“Most snacks are pretty unhealthy. Nuts are okay. Fruit, if you can get it fresh. If it’s too much of a pain I’ll take something myself, you don’t have to bother.”

“Nonsense, Gavin.” Niles waves the hand holding his fork, licking some crumbs from his lips. “I’ll provide for your aftercare. It’s part of the package.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

They call for the tab as soon as Niles is done with his dessert, with Gavin insisting on splitting it evenly despite Niles consuming more than him. When they part, it’s with the set promise of scheduling a scene, which has Gavin’s nerves tingling.

The first thing he does after changing into sweatpants is make a nest of his blankets and call Tina. He can’t help but go on about how Niles exceeded his expectations, how he was attentive and caring, how even when he embarrassed Gavin, he was careful not to let others bear witness to his shame.

She even teases him, claiming he has a crush, which he vehemently denies. It’s only natural to be into your dom, but he has no romantic inclination toward Niles, only the desire to serve and please him. If only it could stay that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things to consider: I know this is tagged as SSC, but I am bending those rules the slightest bit on the "sane" side to allow Gavin and Niles to have their scenes despite Gavin rejecting therapy or other forms of coping with his history of abuse and possible wartime PTSD.  
> Niles charges a very, very high fee for a male dom and his schedule and earnings are unrealistically high because this is fiction and I can manipulate the rules. The charges depicted here are usually reserved for very popular dominatrixes with an expensive, almost exclusively male clientele.  
> I don't know the inner workings of private military companies and my research doesn't give me much insight, so that part is mostly me winging it. Please forgive any mistakes if you are a connoisseur of PMCs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the first perspective shift, giving us a glimpse into Niles's life. Sprinkled a hint of the minor pairings in there as well.
> 
> Content warning: there is a brief mention of the Boston Marathon bombings.

The day after their first meeting, Niles e-mails Gavin a list of available dates for their scene. He’s infinitely thankful when a reply enters his inbox only a few hours later, securing the Monday 6pm opening for the following week. Niles diligently notes it down on his calendar, along with a direct link to his file on Gavin. He always pays special attention to new clients whose needs he’s not entirely sure of.

They communicate further to exchange payment information, with Gavin agreeing to pay half the value upfront and half after the session. Niles is surprised to see the money enter his account only hours after the thread is concluded.

Other than the few minutes spent on scheduling, it’s his typical Sunday off. Pancakes for breakfast, a run to get his endorphins going, and an afternoon visit from Connor. The twins made a ritual of weekly visits ever since they moved away from each other. Connor now lived in his own apartment, modest with the exception of the room he had repurposed as a walk-in closet. Niles opted for a house instead, with much more space and a yard of his own.

It’s two in the afternoon when the doorbell rings, and when Niles opens the door, he can’t help but make a face. His brother is standing there dressed in an emerald green tracksuit with white gold floral accents, the jacket partly unzipped to reveal a form-fitting black t-shirt, red and navy-blue stripes down the sides of each leg. To top it off, he has pristine white leather sneakers with the same stripes going diagonally across the outside of each shoe.

“Connor, what are you wearing?” Niles makes a sweeping up and down movement with his right hand, indicating all of Connor’s outfit.

“Designer,” his brother answers without hesitation, a playful smile on his face. “Hank bought it for me.”

“It is hideous,” Niles comments with a slight shake of his head, stepping out of the way so Connor can walk inside.

“Niles, Gucci is meant to be ugly. It’s a statement.” Connor wastes no time waiting for his brother, already making his way to the couch and settling down on it with a satisfied sigh. “Plus, Hank thinks it looks cute.”

“Of course he does. Rich people have no sense of style.” Niles pushes the door closed, joining his twin on the couch, legs crossed with his feet tucked under his knees.

“You only wear three colors and none of them are accent tones,” Connor reminds him, eyeing his simple all-black outfit. “Not to mention your, ah, _impressive_ collection of turtlenecks.”

“There is nothing wrong with a high collar. Maintaining a monochrome palette helps me coordinate without much effort and project an image of emotional distance, which I need for my job.”

“Blue would bring out your eyes,” Connor suggests. “Maybe not for work, but if you’re ever free, you could change it up.”

“I would rather not.”

“Right. How have you been?”

“Busy,” Niles replies, thinking back on his week. “I had an intense scene Thursday through Friday, so I slept well into the afternoon yesterday. After that I met with a new sub to discuss terms for our first scene.”

“You told me you had stopped working on weekends,” Connor chides him, brows furrowed. “You’re going to burn out again.”

“I have stopped doing scenes on weekends. I doubt dinner and conversation will exhaust me, Con.”

“If you’re sure. I still don’t like it.” Connor shifts to sit sidesaddle facing Niles on the couch cushion, feet just hanging over the edge. “When was the last time you had fun outside of work?”

“Don’t ask about my sex life, Con.”

“Why? We’ve always talked about this,” he insists, pushing his brother a little further. “I don’t want details, I just need to know you’re taking care of yourself. It’s not good to go too long without treating yourself to affection and company.”

“I get plenty of affection at work, I’d rather be alone in my downtime. If you are so worried, though, I can tell you my needs are not being neglected.”

“That doesn’t count as affection in my book.” Connor looks down at his manicured hands, inspecting his nails before resting both palms on his lap. “At least I know you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“You worry too much. It’s not as if you work better hours, either.”

“Yes, but I get treated to fancy dinners and discuss politics with foreign dignitaries while you put in hard physical labor.” Connor pauses, laughs softly to himself. “ _Hard_ , hah.”

“Very funny.” Niles tries to contain his own amused smile, refusing to be swayed by such childish humor. “You complain about those formal events all the time, so don’t pretend it’s all roses. Don’t you hate half the people you go out with?”

“Mm,” Connor shrugs. “Hate is a strong word. I have to contain my opinions when it comes to some of them, but that is fine so long as they pay me enough. I haven’t had to worry about that lately, though, since Martha and Hank have been so generous with my allowances.”

“So, you’re down to two?”

“No, of course not. They’re my priorities, but when they’re busy, I’m free to look for green elsewhere.”

“Keep those options open, you never know when one well will run out. Particularly this Hank fellow, if he’s giving you designer clothes, he has ulterior motives,” Niles cautions. “Men always try to bend the rules when they think they’re in control.”

“It’s not like that,” Connor interjects, lips tilting upwards. “Hank is recently widowed, overloaded at work, and he needs someone to care for him. He has simple needs, and I think he enjoys having someone to spoil.”

“Just don’t let your guard down.” Niles takes the remote from the coffee table, passing it to his brother after switching on the television. “Your turn to pick the movie.”

They end up watching _Like Water For Chocolate_ , which turns out to be a far more tragic story than the summary suggests. By the time the credits roll, Connor has a cushion held close to his chest and Niles has sunk low into the couch, feet resting on the small table in the center of the room.

“That was upsetting,” Connor is the first to comment, aimlessly flicking through a selection of other movies.

“It had some good commentary, but it was grim,” Niles agrees, yawning widely and tugging the collar of his turtleneck upwards. “I am not in the mood to watch a second movie.”

“What do you suggest we do, then?” Connor turns the screen dark, setting down the remote. “The last time I took you shopping, you were bored out of your mind.”

“Shopping is not a leisure activity,” Niles insists, rolling his eyes at the mere thought of it. “I do have to restock my kitchen, however, if you want to help me on a grocery run.”

“I passed on going to the theatre with Markus and Simon to hang out with you.” It’s a complaint, but one Niles can easily rebuke.

“I am sure you would love being their third wheel.”

“Fine, let’s get your groceries. I want pop tarts anyway.” Connor sits upright, setting his emotional support cushion back down before standing.

Niles stretches before rising to his feet, quickly grabbing his wallet and keys. He slips on the shoes he left by the door the night before and they leave the house together.

Niles has a list of items he needs to buy and he follows it to the letter, but by the time they’re ready to pay for the groceries, his purchases are buried under boxes of chocolate, pop tarts and bags of potato chips.

“Do you expect me to pay for your junk?” He asks, side-eyeing Connor as he adds a pack of cherry gum to the pile of sweets.

“I’ll pay you back,” Connor dismisses his criticism, considering a package of salami snacks and deciding against it.

“Your metabolism is disturbing.” Niles crunches his nose in distaste, but pushes the cart up to the register and starts placing items on the conveyor belt. “You should watch your eating habits, you’re not a kid anymore.”

“I eat healthy,” Connor protests, despite the mountain of evidence against that claim. “I just want to indulge, and it’s the weekend.”

“Con, you’re not eating all this today. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I know that.”

“Either way, you should be more careful with your money. You can’t do this work for much longer,” Niles reminds him, careful not to speak of any specifics in public. He fishes around his wallet for his debit card, waiting for the cashier to tally the items.

“You’re the last person who can lecture me on the instability of my work.” Connor’s voice is harsher than he intends, so he takes a step back and tries to center himself. “I know your job is steadier, but I can handle myself. If things go south, I’ll get a desk job.”

“I don’t want you to waste what you have right now. That’s all.” Niles smiles apologetically at the cashier, making quick work of paying for their groceries and bagging them for the road.

“I know, Niles.” Connor passes by him to collect some of the bags, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.

They’re efficient in loading up the car and again in carrying their groceries into the house. Connor knew Niles enough to help him put things away without asking many questions.

Despite Niles’s protests, the night ends with both of them eating potato chips and drinking wine while watching The Great British Bake Off. They fall asleep leaning against each other on the couch, half-sitting, with empty chip bags and wine glasses cluttering the coffee table.

Connor ends up staying for breakfast, which they cook together at noon because Niles has no appointments until later and feels no obligation to be in the studio by himself. When his brother finally leaves, it’s with the bags of junk food they hadn’t yet consumed and the promise of transferring the money for them into Niles’s account in the next twenty-four hours.

Niles cleans up the kitchen after Connor leaves, enjoying the sound of running water against the silence of his home. Once the chores are done, he returns to the bedroom and picks out his black leather suit, carefully packing it for the road. On the bed, he sets a gray turtleneck sweater, a fresh pair of slim black pants and his favorite pair of Marco Marcos.

He takes his time in the shower, holding his face up against the spray and clearing his mind. The scene planned for this night is simple enough, but it requires him to be considerably more playful than usual, so he needs time to build up that mindset.

He arrives at the studio one hour before the scene is set to start. The submissive he’s set to play with brings his own attire and hood, so Niles only has to worry about the toys and equipment they’re going to use.  

They use the emptiest of the three settings he provides. There is enough space for his pup to play once he’s collared and chained to the center stand by a long chain, padding around on all fours with his hands in leather mitts. Niles offers him a series of toys throughout the scene, switching them out from time to time.

Scenes like this require him to be openly affectionate, rubbing his pup’s stomach, back and ass, massaging his scalp and stroking his hair. He even allows him to nose at his leather-covered crotch, reveling in the whines that escape his submissive when he pulls away instead of providing him any sexual satisfaction.

Monday is the only day with a single scene scheduled. Most of the scenes for the rest of the week have a shorter duration than this one, but combined they end up being more work.

Some are heavier than others. Wednesday night gets him particularly exhausted, both from wielding a whip several times and from the level of verbal degradation his submissive required. It was satisfying, of course, but emotionally draining at the same time. Niles couldn’t ask for aftercare from his clients – he only gave, in that aspect, which left him to wind down alone with a soft romantic comedy and a nice cup of chamomile.

As usual, he schedules the most intense scene for the end of the week. This is a scenario he can’t pull off alone, so he asks for the help of one of the women he used to work with in his dungeon days and she is happy to play the bait for his client. This time it’s a kidnapping scenario, started from the moment the submissive is lured away from a public place and ending with him soaking a blindfold with tears, body covered in aggressive red marks, strapped to a bondage bench.

These elaborate plays are not Niles’s favorite, but he has no trouble indulging his clients in their fantasies. He is no longer uncomfortable with the theatricals as he once was, and there is enough enjoyment to be found in causing pain and fear to blossom for him to be pleased. It’s just another aspect of his work, one that would never bleed into his personal life.

The aftercare matches the intensity of the playtime. Niles spends the better part of an hour soothing his submissive and coaxing him back from subspace, ensuring he ate and drank before he could even consider leaving the building.

He sleeps in on Saturday, waking up to a barrage of messages from Connor. The first few are different outfits and shoes with captions asking for his opinion. The following twenty are simply his name, repeated over and over with the sole purpose of bothering him into answering the questions. The last message is a photo of Connor in front of a full-length mirror, wearing a baby blue tracksuit with colorful floral accents and white spiked Lita boots, his final choice for the lunch date he had with Hank.

Niles yawns and sets his phone back down, not bothering with a reply. By now, Connor was already well into his encounter and would likely not pay attention to any messages until nighttime.

Sunday is, once again, Connor’s day. This time he shows up to help prepare lunch, basting steaks in butter while Niles prepares a mash to go with them.

After lunch, Connor convinces him – more like drags him – out to the movies with Markus and Simon. Niles resents him until he sees another familiar face join them at the mall. North is always a breath of fresh air in social situations.

He spends most of his time outside the theatre with her, both of them fondly exasperated at Simon and Connor acting like excited puppies around Markus.

Niles doesn’t mind sharing his day with the trio – he may not be close to Simon and Markus, but they’re Connor’s friends and seeing his brother happy will always please him. So he hangs back with North, talking about work and her new girlfriend, falling into the conversation as old friends do.

They end up staying out way past the movie, eating takeout on a park bench after dark while Markus and Simon excitedly detail the big new expansion for their charity organization. In the end, it’s worth leaving the house once in a while.

For once, Connor goes back to his own place at the end of the night. Niles doesn’t mind sleeping alone, he rarely has the luxury of company in his bed and most of the time it’s just his brother’s innocent embrace.

Monday starts early. He has one scene at eleven because of a client who operates outside normal work hours, so he spends the hour before lunch making her lick his boots and beg for the whip. Then, so he doesn’t have to make the drive home for the studio, he orders a salad and roast turkey sandwich to be delivered.

One of his regular clients wants a public scene at three, so Niles takes him for a walk. He keeps a harsh pace and tugs on the leash whenever the man falls behind, berating him verbally for his failures. He can never fully understand why exactly people get off on public humiliation, but he’s happy to help.

He reads between scenes, after cleaning the used equipment. Finally, at five fifty-five, the buzzer sounds and Niles checks the camera, identifying the man nervously rubbing his hands against his jacket as Gavin.

Opening the door with a kind smile, he allows him inside and directs him to the modern dungeon, an elegant contrast of black equipment on red walls. Niles is sure he hears Gavin gasp when he enters.

“Would you like a cup of water before we start?” he offers, glancing at his watch to make sure that yes, there are still four minutes before Gavin’s time begins.

“That- that’d be nice, yeah.” Gavin nods, still seemingly captivated by the room. He doesn’t even hear Niles leave to retrieve the water, taking his time to observe. The most notable features are the bondage bed, the massage bed and the Saint Andrew’s Cross, but there is also a proper bed in the far corner.

One of the walls is lined with cabinets and shelves with multiple play collars on display, some books, a gas mask, and leather and latex hoods that make Gavin’s throat constrict just from looking at them.

The opposite wall has gags, blindfolds, paddles, floggers, whips and several coiled lengths of rope on display, hanging from elegant silver hooks.

When he looks up, there are suspension hoops hanging from the ceiling, as well as a long straight bar that probably serves the same purpose. He’s too busy thinking of being tied to one of those to hear Niles return, and the sound of his voice makes Gavin jump.

“Your water,” Niles offers, too kind and gentle for what they’re about to do.

“Oh- thanks.” Gavin accepts it with a shy smile, drinking the whole cup faster than strictly necessary.

“Would you like more?”

“No, thank you.” Gavin returns the cup to him, shifting his weight nervously from side to side. “So…”

“Before we start,” Niles says, walking across the room to set the cup down on a table Gavin had barely glanced at, but now saw it held a covered plate and a bottle of water. “I want to go over your safewords. What’s your preferred one?”

“I usually keep it pretty simple. Stoplight system,” Gavin explains.

“Hm. Remind me,” Niles insists, although Gavin is sure he’s only doing it for the sake of formality.

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, green for okay,” he answers anyway, only realizing he’s standing at attention when Niles chuckles. With an awkward smile, he relaxes his posture.

“Good. I want you to have one more word for full stop, though. We may never need to use it, but you should have it.”

“Uh.” Gavin bites his lower lip, trying to think of something he’ll remember in the heat of the action. “Unsat.”

“Unsat?” Niles arches an eyebrow in question, expecting both confirmation and an explanation for the odd term.

“We use it in the army. Unsatisfactory is a big word.” Gavin realizes his mistake and raises his hands to his chest. “Not that I’m saying you’ll be unsatisfactory, I just thought-“

“Hey,” Niles laughs, tilting his head to the side. “I like it. Unsat, then.”

“Oh.”

“Is there anything else you would like me to review before we start?”

“I don’t think so, no.” Gavin takes a steadying breath once he realizes this is really happening. They’ve gone over the scene so carefully it’s a wonder he still feels like he’ll be surprised, but he has no idea what Niles has planned for him.

“Good.” Niles closes the door but doesn’t lock it, not wanting Gavin to feel trapped. No one else will enter the studio without his permission, so they are perfectly protected from any outside intervention. “When you feel ready, undress and fold your clothes, place them on the bed. From this point on, I expect you to respectfully defer to me.”

“Yes, sir.” Gavin, despite his worries, does not hesitate. He removes his shirt first, very aware of his dom’s eyes on him the whole time. He folds the shirt into a neat square and places it on the bed, then works on removing his belt. He can’t exactly fold the leather, but he thinks Niles will appreciate it if he rolls it into a spiral.

He considers removing his pants and underwear in one move, but decides that would be too much, so his jeans come off first and are folded before he even hooks his fingers through the waistband of his briefs. With one quick exhale, he pushes them down.

“Good boy,” Niles praises, keeping his distance even as he finds himself attracted to Gavin’s form. This is a strictly professional setting and any personal inclinations he might have are to be kept separate. Still, he takes his time admiring the body Gavin has cultivated, all firm muscles and defined curves.

There are visible scars as well, many of them from deep wounds – knives, a bullet wound, perhaps even shrapnel. Niles tries to avoid thinking about how that makes him even more attractive.

Without another word, he walks over to the shelves and picks out a thick, studded, double-layered faux leather collar with a large metal D-ring in the front. He runs his fingers over the studs as if considering his choice, then makes his way towards Gavin, stepping up behind him.

“Head up,” he commands, grateful for the immediate obedience as his sub’s head tilts back. He opens the clasps of the collar, patient with the give of the material, enjoying the fact that the more time he takes the longer Gavin has to keep that position. It’s the simple things. Finally, he wraps the collar around the strong neck and hooks it closed, sliding a finger between faux leather and skin to ensure it’s not too tight.

He steps away to admire the new view of Gavin’s back, but something stops his enjoyment. There are thin white lines across his spine, some even spanning his lower back. Scars made by a whip, many in places a whip should never touch. Suddenly the idea of Gavin having previous doms, ill-intentioned or purely ignorant, was a much darker thought in his mind.

Niles pushes away every thought of asking about the scars, afraid it’ll draw Gavin away from the scene. He takes a breath to regain his authority before stepping back into the sub’s line of sight, making for the wall where ropes and impact play toys hang.

“Extend your right hand,” he says, picking out a rope – the red one, color-coded so he can identify it as being fifteen feet long. He uncoils it while walking back to Gavin, finding the bite and pinching the rope between his fingers to form a loop.

He wraps the bite around Gavin’s thumb, making sure there’s enough slack to remove it once the cuff is finished. He wraps the twin strands of rope down around Gavin’s wrist and brings it around under the hoop, then up to the base of his little finger and around his palm. He repeats the movement, down around the wrist and up around the fingers, always allowing room for circulation.

He continues until there are a total of six wraps around the back of Gavin’s hand. With a wordless push, he has Gavin raise his hand, palm-forward. Carefully, Niles removes the hoop from his sub’s thumb and brings it forward between the thumb and the fingers, threading the remaining loose rope through it. He then pushes that rope through the wraps around Gavin’s palm, creating a knot and tightening to form a handle. The looped knot sits perfectly in the ball of Gavin’s hand, providing him support should he need to grip it.

Niles gives the handle a tug to be sure Gavin is comfortable, then returns to the wall to pick another coil of rope. As he returns, he gives his next command.

“Left hand.” Gavin obediently extends his left hand, allowing Niles to repeat the exact same binding process. Once it’s done, Niles admires his own handiwork. “Color.”

“Green, sir.”

“Get on the bondage bed and kneel in the center, facing away from me.” Niles watches him settle on the mattress with his knees spread for balance, bound hands resting on his thighs. With a pleasant hum, Niles picks out a paddle and two floggers from the wall, setting those down within reach and climbing on the bed behind Gavin.

He finally touches the sub, warm palms roaming over his shoulder blades and down his sides. Gavin shivers but says nothing, an impressive show of obedience for someone who claimed to be a brat.

“See those hoops on the bedframe?” Niles asks, waiting for Gavin to look around and spot the metal rings that hang from the sides of the frame surrounding them. He nods. “Verbal,” Niles demands, giving his back a light slap.

“Sorry, sir. Yes, sir,” Gavin says quickly, straightening his back.

“Hold your hands up as close to them as you can without breaking position.”

Gavin raises both hands high above his head, spreading his arms and raising himself up on his knees. Niles takes the handles of rope and binds one to each side of the frame, forcing Gavin to remain upright and causing considerable strain on his muscles. It’s safe, of course, Gavin’s body can handle the strain and the bondage offers a decent level of support as well.

“Good, you’re doing so well,” Niles praises, caressing the stretched arms and rubbing over the defined biceps. “I knew you’d look pretty tied up for me. Do you like my ropes, Gavin?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you want my hands on you?” Niles asks, pulling his palms away so only the very tips of his fingers graze Gavin’s skin, moving from his arms to his shoulders.

“Yes, sir.”

“How do you want them?” When there’s no immediate reply, Niles removes his hands from the picture entirely, causing Gavin to grip the knots and pull.

“I- hit me, sir,” Gavin asks, almost a whisper, as if he’s ashamed of the request. Niles will train that shame right out of him.

Instead of complying, he simply returns to the gentle rubbing, warming the skin he intends to abuse. His fingers push into Gavin’s upper back, eliciting a low groan. Satisfied with the reaction, Niles kneads the muscle to help him relax and prepare him for further stimulus.

“Is this where you want me to hit you, Gavin?” Niles asks, warmth spreading through him at the sight of the man so pliant under his ministrations.

“Yes, sir,” Gavin breathes, arching into the contact.

“I’m going to turn your pretty tan red,” he promises, moving his hands lower and smiling when Gavin leans forward to give him more access, stretching the ropes that bind him to their maximum.

Niles caresses his lower back, tracing over the areas he would never strike – his kidneys, the length of his spine, his fragile tailbone. Finally, his hands reach perfectly rounded butt cheeks, which he can’t resist squeezing. Gavin moans.

“What about here?” he asks, fascinated by the give of Gavin’s skin despite his muscular frame. The shape of his ass is clearly intentional, curated thoughtfully over years of exercise.

“Please, sir.” Gavin pushes back against his hands and Niles notices his breathing start to shift.

“Be patient,” he instructs, moving forward so his front is pressed against Gavin’s exposed back. He leans forward over his sub and allows his hands to roam over the thick thighs, legs and forearms apparently being the only places Gavin allows any body hair to grow. “It’s your reward, and you need to earn your reward.”

“I don’t want to be patient,” Gavin protests. “I’ve been good!”

“Oh, sweetheart, we have barely begun.” Niles chuckles, low and dark, rubbing circles over the meat of Gavin’s thighs. “You think letting me tie you up is enough?”

“I- I’m not sure what else to do,” he admits, hanging his head. The honesty pleases Niles more than any excuse could.

“I know.” Niles pulls back slowly, inching back to his previous position. “You want to please me, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir! I want that, please,” Gavin begs, resistance already broken after such a simple conversation.

“I’ll give you your desire, but only if you count.” Without waiting for an answer, Niles strikes Gavin’s ass with a cupped hand. It’s not hard enough to be truly painful, barely giving him the endorphin hit he needs, but that’s how this always starts.

“One,” Gavin says, eyes closed and mouth hanging open as a second strike lands on the other cheek. “Two.”

Niles makes him count to twenty, ten slaps for each cheek, and then returns to a gentle caress. Gavin’s breathing slows with the change of pace, but Niles can tell the buildup is getting to him, making him pull at the ropes that hold him up.

“Is that what you wanted?” he asks, sliding his fingers back up Gavin’s spine while applying steady pressure.

“No, sir. I want more. Harder.” Once again, Gavin’s voice is low, his comfort probably aiding his self-control.

“You will have to speak louder if you want me to hear you,” Niles warns, once again retracting his hands. He doesn’t do it only to be cruel – he actually means to grab the paddle, a soft thing made of faux leather with a plastic core. It stings less than real leather and the flexible core makes for a lighter impact, nothing like the wood he uses on more experienced submissives.

“I-“ Gavin hesitates, then jumps a little when he hears the sound of the paddle against Niles’s own open hand. “I want you to hit me hard, sir! Please.”

“Much better,” Niles nuzzles his spine right between his shoulder blades and lets the paddle touch Gavin’s ass. “Count backwards from thirty.”

He sits back and adjusts his grip on the paddle, allowing a moment of suspense before landing the first blow. It causes a loud smack to echo in the room, the hit considerably harder than his cupped hand despite the gentle nature of the toy.

“Thirty,” Gavin gasps, arching his back. Instead of immediately alternating, Niles lands another four blows to the same cheek, counting five before moving to the other side. Gavin stutters when he reaches twenty, but he doesn’t lose count, breath coming in heavy pants by the time Niles lets the paddle fall.

“Good boy, Gavin.” Niles immediately returns his hands to the reddened flesh, heart soaring at the weak whimper that leaves Gavin’s throat. He clearly doesn’t intend to make the sound, shoulders tensing the moment it comes out. “Shh, you did so well. You want more than a paddle, though, don’t you?”

Once again, he’s answered with nothing but a nod. This time, he lands a hard, flat-handed slap to the meat of Gavin’s ass.

“Sorry! Yes, sir!”

Niles soothes the spot with his fingers, then trails both hands up Gavin’s sides, rubbing circles into the soft skin. He focuses most of his attention on his upper back, the place he plans to strike next.

“Color.”

“Green. All the way green,” Gavin allows himself to relax again, leaning into the kneading hands. Niles pulls one hand away, but Gavin’s not expecting the hard slap when it lands, so he cries out and jolts forward. It’s the only one, though, and soon there are nothing but gentle touches.

When Gavin’s about to start begging again, Niles pulls away entirely. He reaches for one of the floggers – the smaller one, balanced with a braided leather handle and thirty suede falls, each 1/2” in width. It’s not a light toy, it will serve to build up for the climax of the scene.

“Are you comfortable with real leather?” he asks, to be safe. He picked out the toy because it’s the best for the scene and because Gavin had listed leather as an interest in his application, but the man’s vegan diet made Niles unsure.

“Yes,” Gavin replies, much to his relief.

The first thing Niles does is hold the flogger over Gavin’s back, allowing the falls to brush over his skin, running the toy up and down so his sub can get a good mental image of it. He’s enjoying the tease so much he almost misses Gavin’s whispered _please_.

The braided leather offers a good grip, the balance prevents his wrist from straining. Niles is aware of every detail as he pulls back the flogger and lands the first blow across Gavin’s upper back, keeping it somewhat light to warm up the skin. It still makes his sub strain against the ropes, a small gasp leaving his lips.

Niles doesn’t give him time to recover, landing blows in quick succession over the full extent of his upper back, each one increasing in intensity. Gavin’s cries are loud and his hands ball into fists over the red knots, but he takes the flogging beautifully. Each of the harder strokes leaves behind red marks, some of which will bruise over time.

Feeling merciful, Niles gives him some reprieve – he moves further back on the bed, feet hanging off the edge, and directs the flogger onto Gavin’s ass instead. The first contact makes him thrust forward, a reaction of mixed pleasure and pain, but soon he presents himself by pushing back once more.

“You’re a sweet thing, Gavin,” he says, knowing his praise is welcomed when Gavin lets out a breathy moan. Niles follows his praise with more of the reward, the combination of visual and auditory stimulus finally affecting him. He uses his free hand to adjust his growing erection but doesn’t give in to the temptation of touching himself, determined to remain professional. Gavin is far from the first sub to affect him, he won’t be the last.

“Look at that, so good for me.” Niles lands a particularly hard blow and Gavin goes limp, a metallic clang ringing through the room as the hoops holding him up are pulled tight against the metal frame. It’s followed by a low, drawn-out moan and the shift of Gavin’s breathing from harsh pants to deep, even inhales.

Setting the flogger down, Niles touches the slightly raised skin, careful and loving to ensure his sub is still with him. Gavin sighs his contentment, head falling forward.

“Gavin, color.”

The response is a weak mumble, barely audible, so Niles moves his hands up from Gavin’s ass to his back – a safer space to touch when in a gray area.

“I need a color, sweetheart. I know you can do it,” he coaxes, touching his nose to the back of Gavin’s neck. “Say it for me.”

“Green,” comes a soft mumble, Gavin’s voice filled with wonder. He tries to push back against his dom, but the restraints don’t let him, and so he starts to shake.

“Shh, you took it so well.” Niles nuzzles him, then returns to rubbing the marks he left, tempted to kiss them. He can’t cross that barrier with Gavin in subspace, though, he has to tread lightly to ensure the scene stays on track.

The gentleness remains until he’s certain Gavin can take another round of pain. Niles is hyperaware, entering his own dominant headspace, confident he won’t make the mistake of pushing too far.

The flogger he picks up this time is made of buffalo leather, thick and heavy, sure to leave lasting marks. Gavin asked for those marks and after his responsiveness to their scene, Niles is sure he can take them.

The first strike lands and proves Gavin is at least mildly verbal, pleading for a second one. Niles can’t make out every word and the pleas turn to babbles the more he hits him, the only clear thing reaching his ears after that being a broken, sobbed _sir_.

Niles stills his hand, allowing the leather falls to brush Gavin’s abused skin, giving him another moment of reprieve. He doesn’t expect another hard sob to shake through Gavin’s body. Without hesitation, Niles lowers the flogger and stands, making his way to his sub’s front and cupping his face, finding tears stroking his cheeks.

“Gavin, it’s okay. You’re okay. Do you want me to untie you?” Niles uses his thumbs to wipe the tears away, meeting Gavin’s eyes. They’re glossy and unfocused, looking past the taller man as if he were made of glass. “Gavin,” he insists, repeating the question.

It takes a moment for the words to register, but Gavin shakes his head, breathing out slowly through parted lips. Niles waits for him to focus further, come down from the high enough to talk, all the while keeping his touches soft and innocent.

“No,” Gavin finally says, barely a whisper. “More.”

Niles considers the request, analyzing Gavin’s expression with concern. He doesn’t know all of Gavin’s cues and reactions yet, can’t tell if the crying is normal catharsis or a negative reaction, but everything _seems_ safe. He nods, moving his hands down Gavin’s neck, just teasing his throat. It’s almost an instant reaction – his sub’s pupils dilate further and a helpless whine escapes him. Something to explore should they have another session.

Niles doesn’t stop at his throat, he rubs Gavin’s shoulders and chest, loving the way he seems to come undone when his nipples are stimulated. He rolls both between his fingers, pinches just enough to cause a sting, and then pulls away.

He returns to his place at Gavin’s back, massaging him everywhere the toys touched, coaxing little sounds from him. Then, with a cupped hand to lighten the impact, he strikes again. Only ten for each area this time, totaling forty, and Gavin is left a crying mess.

Niles whispers praise, calling him sweetheart and darling, and reaches up to untie the ropes from the metal hoops. He carefully slips the knots free and uncoils the red material from around Gavin’s hands and wrists, letting the ropes fall discarded to the mattress.

He gathers Gavin in his arms, trusting his strength enough to carry him from the bondage bed to the one in the corner of the room, set there specifically for aftercare. He holds Gavin against his clothed chest, unhooking the collar and setting it down beside them.

“You’re so good for me, Gavin,” he whispers near Gavin’s ear, pulling a blanket over them both, maintaining a firm embrace. “I’m proud of you. That was a lot for a first time, and you were beautiful.”

There are many things Niles enjoys about his work, but this is one of them: watching big, strong, battle-hardened men fall apart in his arms. Gavin’s no longer sobbing, but the tears keep coming and he presses himself against Niles for comfort, turns around and hides his face against the high collar of his shirt.

“I didn’t think I’d make you cry today.” He runs his hand over Gavin’s unmarred lower back, sparing him the extra stimulation to allow him to return to his senses. “So sweet, Gav.” The nickname slips by unnoticed, lost in a sea of praise.

Over time, Gavin’s breathing slows and he pulls back to look at Niles, face flushed and wet. Then, a shy smile finds its way to his lips and Niles swears his heart skips a beat.

“Would you like some water, Gavin?” he asks, ignoring the unsettling feeling. A nod is all the confirmation he needs to reach for the small table by the bed and grab the bottle he’d set there before the scene, uncapping it before handing it to his sub.

“Thanks,” Gavin whispers, then leans his head back and drinks three thirds of the bottle in one go. He hands it back to Niles when he’s done, allowing his head to fall on his dom’s shoulder. “T’was nice.”

“Was it?” Niles sets the bottle back on the table, then resumes holding Gavin. “I’m glad. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“Mm,” Gavin yawns and snuggles into the embrace, closing his eyes. Niles allows him that moment of relaxation, moving one hand up to card through his hair.

“Gavin, you should eat something,” he suggests after a few minutes, feeling the other man nod against his shoulder. “I have watermelon and blueberries for you. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” Gavin replies, hesitantly pulling away to allow Niles the freedom of movement necessary to retrieve the plate from the table. He pulls the cover off and sets it back there, then rests the plate on the mattress beside them.

Gavin shifts around so his back is once again pressed to Niles’s chest, pulling the blanket down enough for him to get his arm free and reach for the fruit. He eats slowly, savoring each bite despite being very hungry after that session. When the fruit is all gone, he licks the watermelon juice from his hand.

“Can I move away now?” Niles asks, placing the plate back on the table. “I need to get some ointment for you, treat those lashes.”

“Yeah,” Gavin whispers again, rubbing his cheek back against Niles’s shoulder before either of them can pull away. He seems to realize what he did, blushing a darker shade of pink, but Niles doesn’t comment. It’s cute and only natural after the intensity of their scene.

He slips off the bed and opens a low cabinet, retrieving the soothing aloe-based ointment. When he looks at the bed again, it’s to admire Gavin’s blissed-out expression and messy hair, the way he clutches the blanket to his chest. Niles smiles.

“Lay down on your stomach,” he instructs, sitting at the edge of the mattress. Gavin is quick to comply, pushing the blanket down and settling on his front, head turned to the side. Niles climbs over him and sits on the back of his thighs. “Is this alright?”

“Yeah.”

Gavin sighs when the cool ointment first touches his upper back. Niles rubs it in carefully over the whole damaged area, some of which is already changing from red to purple. He doesn’t apply enough pressure to make it painful again, keeping Gavin above the surface, not wanting to make this a continuation of their scene.

He repeats the process on his ass, massaging the cheeks and swallowing thickly when he accidentally pulls them apart and catches a glimpse – no, his mind is not going there. It’s bad enough that he thinks about the care Gavin puts into his body, a clear focus on his health with a decent serving of vanity, he can’t let those thoughts cloud their aftercare.

“There you go,” he says when he’s done, pulling away and climbing off to prevent himself from touching longer than necessary. He reaches for a cloth and wipes his hands dry. “Let that sink into your skin before you get dressed. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Gavin shakes his head, eyes closed against the soft pillow under his head.

“Okay. I’m going to clean up, but I will be in this room. Call for me if you need me.”

Niles allows his sub to rest on the bed as he uses the toy cleaner on all three items, sterilizes the rope and coils it, then hangs everything back on the wall. He runs a cloth over the leather-covered mattress of the bondage bed, damp with a leather-safe disinfectant, not surprised to find wet spots right where Gavin’s crotch had rested.

Speaking of the man – Niles turns his attention back to him when he hears a snore, and there’s nothing quite so endearing as someone comfortable enough to sleep in his presence. He crosses the room again, runs his hands through Gavin’s hair and considers waking him. Before he can make that decision, a phone rings.

“Mhn,” Gavin mutters, shaking himself awake and pushing up from the mattress. He glances at Niles and smiles apologetically, then reaches for his pants and pulls his phone from a deep pocket, answering immediately. “Teeny?”

Niles leans back against the wall, amused by Gavin’s dramatic eyeroll at something the person on the other end said. It’s a woman’s voice, Niles can hear that much, but he can’t make out any words.

“Shit, calm down, I’m fine. Fell asleep. Forgot to check in,” he explains, yawning widely. The person on the other end continues talking and Gavin nods along to her voice. “It was good. Uh, better than good. I’ll tell you about it later, okay? Gotta go now.”

“Better than good?” Niles asks, smirking, when Gavin sets the phone down.

“Oh, shut up.” Gavin scoots down on the bed and pulls his briefs back on, lifting his hips to get them into place. He pulls his shirt over his head and lays back to get his pants on, groaning at the feeling of soreness as his upper back presses against the mattress.

“I am simply pleased my confidence was not misplaced,” Niles explains, feeling the familiar taste of pride at the reminder that Gavin would carry his marks for days.

“Sure you are, tough guy.” Gavin smiles up at him, pushing himself to sit and then stand with only a small wince between movements. “I, uh. I’ll… e-mail you about next time?”

“Please do. I will include my telephone number in our next exchange so you may reach me directly, but do keep in mind that my availability is… unpredictable.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks for- everything.” Gavin looks away, awkward, and then shakes his head. “Shit. Bye, Niles.”

“Goodbye, Gavin. Have a safe trip home.”

Niles stays a while longer, cleaning the used plate and cup in the sink he has in the back room that serves as a stove-less kitchen, laying out some toys in preparation for Tuesday’s planned scenes and checking every room before closing up.

He drives home listening to soft jazz, turns the news on as background noise when he makes it home and decides to cook spaghetti with garlic and oil for dinner. He eats it sitting in front of the couch, watching the latest report on Dzhokhar Tsarnaev’s death sentence and the Senate discussion surrounding the Trade Promotion Authority bill.

By the time the dishes are washed and the news has turned into a mess of nine different people debating morality and politics, trying to talk over one another, it’s past ten. Niles turns off the television, strips out of his suit and steps into a cold shower, relishing the feeling of his skin pebbling under the water.

He remembers Connor’s quip about cold showers – only people with no soul could take true pleasure from them. It draws a smile to his face as he rubs the oil from his scalp, already used to the temperature at this point. The initial shock wears off quickly.

Another benefit of his preferred temperature is the warm embrace of spring air as he steps out onto the soft mat, fluffy towel wrapped around his middle, every sensation heightened. Niles sighs his contentment as he dries himself, not bothering to cover his body after hanging up the towel.

The walk to his bedroom is short and there are no open windows to expose him. He lays down on the bed, considering a pair of sweatpants as pajamas, then decides against them. The feeling of the expensive sheets against his skin is too good to pass up.

Niles closes his eyes, planning to sleep, but the image of Gavin’s pretty bruised back flashes through his mind. He groans, knowing the thought won’t go away once he starts thinking about how the firm muscles felt under his hand, how Gavin moaned and gasped so sweetly, begging for more.

It’s not the first time he masturbates thinking of a client. It’s even expected, in his line of work, when someone particularly enticing comes along. Because of that, he doesn’t feel guilty as his right hand trails down his torso to grip his slowly hardening cock. He gives it a few gentle tugs, then reaches blindly for the bedside table. The first thing he does is check that there are tissues – there are – and then he reaches for the lubricant. Two pumps of the gel into his hand and he’s back at it, stroking himself to hardness with the image of Gavin tied up in the forefront of his mind.

He wonders what it would feel like if he were free to touch everywhere, what noises Gavin would make with Niles’s tongue on his skin, if he’d beg sweetly again or show his rougher side. His cock twitches at the thought of restraining Gavin with nothing but his bare hands, pushing his face down into a pillow and taking him apart.

What undoes him isn’t that simple fantasy, though. It’s the thought of Gavin covered in far more intimate marks, bite marks, body covered in braided rope and suspended for his enjoyment, completely at his mercy.

Niles cleans himself up once the high of his orgasm wears off, tossing the soiled tissues into the trash bin he keeps by his bed. Another yawn forces itself out of him and he pulls his pillow down from his head, into his arms, spooning it as he falls asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Gavin sleeps a full, uninterrupted eight hours for the first time in recent memory. His dreams are still haunted by screams and gunfire, but his usual wartime nightmares don’t make a dent in his resting period this time. He wakes up two minutes before his alarm and pushes his face back into his pillow until it finally goes off.

He slept with the blinds open, but that’s no issue – he’s always awake before the sun. With a low groan, he rolls his shoulders back to feel the soreness from his flogging, the pain sending a jolt of arousal through his system.

Sitting up turns out to be a process. He slept on his stomach to prevent excessive friction on his skin from keeping him awake, which turns out to have been a good decision. His soreness runs deep, muscles aching as he pushes himself up and turns to land on his tender bottom.

The sensation is not that different from the pleasant strain following a heavy workout, but it is far more localized and easily stimulated. He relaxes into the pain, accepts it, and sighs as it brings him a special kind of focus he had missed.

His morning routine is no different than any other work day. He checks his phone first, ignoring the unread messages from Tina, all of them asking where he was before she resorted to calling him. He then goes through his work e-mail, requiring four different tabs to confirm meetings without having any overlap. _God, I need help_.

Gavin does one new thing – he opens his personal e-mail after all the work messages are dealt with. He’s not expecting any new messages, not this early, but he has one to write. A familiar but subdued anxiety courses through him.

 _Niles_ , he starts, using the man’s first name in writing for the very first time.

_I’m following up like I said I would. The scene was great. How about we do the next one in two weeks, also on Monday?_

Before he signs off, he adds his phone number and mentions Niles can message him at any time.

_Gavin Reed._

Two weeks is more than enough time for him to heal and, should they go forward with this arrangement, it’s a better fit for his budget than weekly scenes. He tries not to think about the idea of seeing Niles every week, hearing that smooth voice whisper praise near his ear, making him melt into every touch and blow.

Gavin abandons his electronics in favor of getting dressed, the sensation of tight cotton around his bruised ass forcing him to bite his lip to keep a sound in. He moves his right hand back to grab at his now-clothed cheek, applying pressure to feel that delicious spark again. His cock gives an interested twitch and that’s when he remembers he does _not_ have time for this.

He slides into worn jeans and a white t-shirt, counts backwards from twenty to will away his traitorous thoughts, and grabs his things to make the one-way trip down the stairs.

Coffee and breakfast take his mind off the previous night’s mind-blowing experience for a while. He’s lost to the taste of bitter Colombian roast when his phone rings, the name on the screen making him huff with annoyance. He answers.

“What the fuck do you want from me at the ass crack of dawn?”

“Sheesh, Gav,” Tina laughs, ringing out through the kitchen as he puts her on speaker. “I just want to know about your ‘more than good’ night. Figured you’d be gearing up to go to work but still have some time to talk.”

“This can wait until I’m off,” Gavin complains around a mouthful of pancakes. “I’ve got shit to do.”

“I know your schedule, dumbass. You have another twenty minutes of free time, so spill the beans.”

“You are such a bitch.” Gavin swallows and licks some syrup from his lips, running his index finger through the sticky liquid left on the plate and cleaning it with his tongue. “It was… I don’t know how to fucking say it. He talked to me all _sweet_ and nice, kept working me up, and when he hit me it was just right. Nothing like the others.”

The words spill out before he can stop himself and he feels blood rising to his face. It was too much to admit out loud, outside a dungeon setting, with a clear mind.

“Jesus,” Tina breathes, her smile coming through in her tone. “So, you’re sticking with him?”

“Don’t sound too proud of yourself, Teeny. I’m seeing him again- well, maybe, in two weeks.”

“I’m just happy you’re taking care of yourself, in your own weird, kinky way.” There’s a shift in her voice then, from playful to serious. “You need to tell me if he ever crosses a line. Don’t let yourself be sweet-talked into abuse again, okay?”

“Shit. I can handle him if that happens, but I think he’s not an asshole. At least not to his clients,” he clarifies, realizing he has no idea what Niles gets up to in his personal time.

“Okay.”

“If you’re that worried, I’ll let you see the damage. Maybe come over for a spar tonight,” Gavin suggests, taking another long sip from his coffee.

“You just got your ass beat and you want more?”

“Always,” he laughs. “You know I like to feel it. Nothing better than moving around to get the full effect of a good bruise,” he adds, a little nervous but knowing Tina has seen and heard way worse from him.

“You’re so messed up, Gav. Come over after closing, alright? I’ll be waiting.”

“Deal. See you later, Chen.”

Gavin makes quick work of the dishes, washes his hands free of any remaining syrup, and brushes his teeth in the downstairs bathroom. He’s exactly on time as he grabs his backpack and heads out the door for another long day at the office.

He’s energetic and productive, and the pain radiating from his backside keeps him alert through endless hours of meetings with regular and potential clients. Most of it involves boring tactic discussion, but his last meeting is with a large arms trader who wants to hire some of his men to test their new prototype weapons. He looks over the limited schematics they hand him and finds his trigger finger itching, wishing to hold the gun that isn’t even off paper yet.

When the men leave him alone in his office, he takes a break to check his phone. There’s one message from Tina – a sticker of a Pitbull surrounded by hearts, his face soft and resembling a human smile. It is captioned _u rn_.

 He ignores that one.

The message that catches his eye next is from an unknown number, but as soon as he reads it, he knows who sent it. His bruises suddenly come to life and he becomes even more aware of his surroundings, eyes darting up to lock on the back of Traci’s head.

_How are you feeling, Gavin? Let me know if you require assistance. Are you handling the bruising well?_

Is he- oh, that’s an idea. Gavin looks up again as if Traci might have heard his thoughts from the other side of the glass, but she continues working on her computer, back facing the partition, blissfully unaware of her boss’s dirty mind.

Gavin pockets his phone and walks out of his personal office, past her desk to the bathroom. He had requested something luxurious for his clients to feel comfortable in, with marble sinks and a large mirror that spanned the length of the wall. He locked the door behind him and took in a shaky breath.

Thoughts race through his mind – years of hiding his sexuality, then his kinks, a decade building a prestigious business, creating a strong image for himself – all of that could fall apart if what he plans to do goes south. Still, it’s not his brain doing the thinking. Niles had to ask about the bruising, didn’t he?

Before he can change his mind, Gavin pulls his shirt off and throws it onto the sink. He wonders if this is inappropriate behavior considering the limitations Niles imposes on their interactions, but none of his previous doms would have complained about this.

He unbuttons his jeans and turns to face the stalls, retrieving his phone and opening the camera app. Breathes in for five seconds, then out for another five. He pushes his jeans and underwear down past his butt, groaning at the drag of fabric over the swollen flesh.

Gavin looks over his shoulder and his mouth goes dry at the sight of the bruises. Dark purple, some still with hints of red, others with that faint yellow tinge around the edges. There’s no way Niles wouldn’t appreciate the sight.

He adjusts his position so most of the bruises show when he holds the phone over his shoulder and snaps a picture of his reflection in the mirror.

The picture is perfect. Provocative and submissive, a perfect way to rile up a dominant partner. Except Niles _isn’t_ his partner, he’s a guy Gavin pays to hurt him. The thought makes him deflate.

Realizing what he’s done, Gavin quickly dresses himself and adjusts his hair in the mirror, hoping to have spent just enough time in the bathroom so that it wasn’t suspicious. He marches back to his office without looking at Traci, feeling a pang of guilt when he realizes she even turned to smile at him.

Maybe he’s overreacting. Even if Niles doesn’t like the picture of Gavin covered in his marks – again, what dom wouldn’t? – he’s not going to leak it or use it for blackmail. But if it got out somehow, if anyone else got a hold of him looking so thoroughly wrecked, that could send Attila down the drain.

Only one person can help him. Gavin opens his conversation with Tina and, still ignoring her latest tease, sends her the image.

 _Should I show Niles?_ he writes, realizing he’s hyperventilating. She doesn’t answer immediately – she’s teaching, of course she doesn’t have her phone on her.

Any person who has an inkling of Gavin’s sexual tendencies would expect him to have sent a nude picture once in his life, but that assumption would be wrong. Gavin had been repressed for too long: first his family, then the army’s backwards politics, then society’s judgmental view of men with desires as _devious_ as his.

The problem ran deep. Nearly four years after Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was repealed and Gavin still never posted a picture with a significant other, never made his relationship status public on social platforms. Even Allen, his right-hand man, didn’t know about his sexuality. And he insists he’s not closeted, hah.

Deep breaths. Five seconds in, five seconds out. Gavin’s phone vibrates and he immediately grabs hold of it again, feeling it go off another three times in his hand. He unlocks it to read Tina’s responses.

_Damn, Gav._

_He really did a number on you, huh?_

_That is kinda hot._

_I’d send it._

Four different messages, all of them in quick succession, not one of them feeding his paranoia. He forces himself to count breaths once more before writing a reply, knowing there’s limited time before Tina takes in another class.

_Freaking out._

It takes a total of fifteen seconds for his phone to ring. He answers it immediately and brings it up to his ear, eyes closed to pretend this isn’t his office space.

“Shit. I can’t do this, Tina, it’s too much.”

“Gavin, are you counting?”

“Yeah! Yeah, shit- goddamn it. I don’t know if I can let this leak.”

“You think he’d do that?”

“No,” he admits. “No, he wouldn’t, but if someone else-“

“Who?” Tina asks, voice firm and steady. “You sent it to me. That has as much chance to get out from a shady third party as sending it to him, right?”

“Fuck. Hadn’t thought of it.”

“Of course you hadn’t, you’re letting your anxiety take over.” Tina sighs audibly into the speaker. “Gav, honey, it’s just a picture. It won’t get out, everything will be fine, the worst you’ll do is give the poor guy a boner.”

“Tina,” Gavin breathes out a painful laugh, feeling the worst of his anxiety slip away. “Why do you always know what to say?”

“Maybe because I’ve seen you go through this shit for what, twelve years now?” There’s pure, gentle affection in her tone, and it reminds Gavin of every time he had a far more serious reason to panic. He opens his eyes. “Hell, Gav, even on the off-chance it did get out… it would be a scandal, and then it would be forgotten the next day. You were smart not to show your face in the picture so you can even deny it’s you, say it’s some client if anyone even recognizes the bathroom. You’ve got this. Send the damn picture.”

“You’re right.” Gavin leans back in his chair, allows the pain to focus him once more, and nods to himself. “Thanks, Tina. You should get back to your students.”

“Call me if you need anything,” she insists, and then the connection ends.

As the silence settles back into his office, Gavin barks out a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He can’t believe such a small thing sent him spiraling, something every other person in this day and age engaged in…

He let his body adjust to the calm before thumbing through the messages on his phone, reading Niles’s text once more. There was still some hesitation, but he selected the picture and sent it anyway – no caption included.

Gavin had never been so thankful for his own firing range as he is after that message is sent. With the noise-cancelling headphones on and the steady weight of the gun in his hand, the whole world melts away. He fires through target after target, at first unsteadily, then regaining his composure and hitting every simulated vital organ.

When he lowers his gun, he’s once again centered. He returns to his office with a wonderful ache in his arms and completes another hour of paperwork before it’s time to go home.

He doesn’t bother showering, knows he’s only going to sweat through his clothes at the dojo. Instead, he grabs a pack of assorted nuts from the kitchen and eats through them while watching _best of_ moments from his favorite romantic comedies on the internet.

Gavin’s heart almost stops when he sees a new message from Niles on his phone. He opens it in a hurry, blush turning dark red as he sees that picture of himself once more.

_You bruise nicely, as expected. I am pleased there seem to be no complications._

The praise makes him shiver, but the complete lack of emotional reaction makes him want to throw his phone across the room. He doesn’t know what he expected, but it was more than _this_.

There has to be a way to get a reaction from Niles. He types and deletes several messages, then settles on one.

_Thank you, sir. If you want, I’ll send you a picture every day so you can admire your work until it heals._

Gavin wonders if the honorific is too much, if he’ll get punished for using it outside of a scene. That’s not a rule they have set, but thinking about it now, it’s one that makes sense. He clicks the send button.

He finishes watching his movie scene compilation and gets ready to go to Tina’s dojo, pushing Niles to the back of his mind.

The exercise is good for him, an additional endorphin release to ensure he gets another night of decent sleep. The exercise clothes hug his body tightly, limiting the friction of fabric against his bruises, but Gavin can feel his skin pull and muscles ache every time he throws a kick or twists his back to get away from Tina.

In the end, he is thrown on his ass enough times for new bruises to form, deeper in the muscle and not quite as pleasant. He’s still not complaining.

Tina is, as usual, the best distraction. She keeps his mind light and focused for the remainder of the night, far from the anxieties that threaten to consume him when he gets stuck in his own head.

Gavin doesn’t check his phone until he’s home, changed, and ready for bed. He’s not so nervous about Niles anymore, even smiles softly at his phone when he sees the response to his last text.

_I would appreciate that._

Simple. Short. Somehow, despite that, it’s still enough to make him warm inside.

Two weeks pass like a flash in Gavin’s eyes. After the initial calm brought by their session dissolves, he’s once again overwhelmed by his self-imposed intensive workload. Tina tells him to hire a personal assistant every time he complains, but he insists he doesn’t need help. He needs to vent.

The bruises fade slowly and the pain goes with them. Gavin compensates by working out harder, pushing his body to exhaustion after long days of sitting around a table with rich men who see soldiers as weapons, serial numbers, not people. He tries to avoid criticizing them and reminds himself that he’s also a rich man using soldiers for profit.

That’s not to say his days are bad. Gavin may have some hypocritical anger about the military industrial complex, but he’s proud of his company and every closed deal or positive feedback makes the stress and exhaustion worth it. When things get too hard, he simply sweats it out with Allen or Tina, or demands the latter keep him company during their free time.

The texts he exchanges with Niles are little highlights to his days. Until the bruises become almost invisible, he continues to send faceless pictures of his nearly nude body. Niles never fails to express how pleased he is to see the fruits of his labor.

Those texts become less frequent as they approach the two-week mark. Gavin has nothing left to show on his body, only a completely innocent bruise on his calf from the time Tina took him down too hard. He misses the daily messages, excitement growing as their next session approaches.

Monday. Six in the afternoon. Gavin stands in the doorway to Niles’s modern dungeon, taking it all in for a second time. He no longer worries about the money he’s spending because if the sight of Niles in a suit can cause his skin to tingle before they even start a scene, he knows this is about to become a _thing_.

Niles hands him a glass of water and Gavin follows him into the room, heart racing in anticipation of what might be planned for him. He sips his water slowly this time, far more at ease with the situation than the first time around.

“Please go over your safewords,” Niles instructs him as he walks by the wall where the impact toys are, playing with the falls of different floggers and allowing his fingers to trace the line of a single-tail.

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, green for okay,” Gavin replies, taking one last sip and walking across the room to set the cup down on the table by the bed. “Unsat for stop,” he adds, remembering their agreement to have more than one system.

“Very good.” Niles crosses to the opposite wall, reaching into one of the cabinets to retrieve a set of black leather gloves. Gavin feels his mouth water. “Is there anything in particular you would enjoy this night, or something you are not interested in exploring?”

Gavin’s lips form a thin line as he thinks, but the idea of having to make one more decision is frustrating. The answer is simple.

“I’m good with whatever you have planned,” he says, feeling a touch of fear as he realizes how easy it is to be open and trusting in this environment. _This is what I’m paying him for. It’s not a big deal._

“Understood. Strip, fold your clothes, place them on the bed.”

Gavin wonders if those are the same orders he’ll get at the start of every scene. He doesn’t hesitate to comply, pulling his shirt over his head first, quickly followed by the removal of the rest of his clothes. He folds them neatly without having to focus on the task, a relic from his time overseas.

“Stand in the middle of the room, under the lowest suspension ring.”

“Yes, sir,” Gavin replies, his face hot from being exposed to Niles’s eyes – which, he notices, follow his movements with an air of appreciation. He shivers.

There’s a slight chill to his skin despite the warm air of spring and Gavin attributes it to the contrast between being fully clothed and standing naked in the middle of a large room. It only serves to heighten his senses, increase his awareness of every sound as Niles moves through the dungeon behind him.

He hears the other man approaching and feels a gloved hand touch his shoulder. The soft leather furthers the idea of submission in his mind, prepares him to accept the collar that is then placed around his neck. He exhales slowly as it’s locked in place.

Niles traces the skin on the back of Gavin’s neck, just below the collar, with his index and middle fingers. Slowly, almost reverently, those fingers make their way down his submissive’s back, over the crisscrossing white scars there. Gavin closes his eyes, lost to the sensation.

It’s disappointing when Niles stops touching him. That small taste was enough to light Gavin’s nerves on fire, make him feel vulnerable and cared for even before the scene began. He hears the sound of leather boots against the floor and the sound of a metal hook scraping against concrete. It’s enough to assume Niles took something from the wall.

Gavin opens his eyes again when he hears Niles come to stand in front of him and he’s greeted by the sight of his fitted black shirt. He looks up to meet his eyes, feeling his body warm at the intensity reflected back at him.

“Hands,” Niles orders, and that’s when Gavin notices the length of blue rope he’s holding. Obediently, he extends both hands in front of his body and allows them to be tied together. He wonders if his arms will be strong enough to support is weight throughout the session when Niles clears up his confusion without prompting. “I am not going to suspend you today.”

“Hm?” Gavin locks eyes with him again, mostly out of curiosity.

“I could tell you were thinking about it,” Niles explains, weaving intricate patterns with the rope along the length of Gavin’s forearms but only joining them together at the wrists. “This would be an unsafe way to distribute your weight if that were my intention.”

The technical explanation should be a turnoff, but the way Niles delivers the information is far from unpleasant. Gavin thinks he could read the phonebook and it would still sound attractive.

Gavin’s flush extends to his chest when Niles strings the end of the rope through the suspension ring, tying it off with just enough tension to keep Gavin’s arms stretched above his head without causing unnecessary or harmful strain to his muscles.

“Color,” Niles prompts, gloved hands moving over the ropes to his upper arms, following the curve of his biceps.

“Green.”

Those hands travel down to his shoulders, then settle on his chest, moving in more of a caress than a rub. Gavin leans into the contact, pulling on the rope that holds him up.

“You were very good, Gavin,” Niles starts, rewarding him by squeezing the muscle under his palms. “You impressed me with your initiative to share with me outside our scenes. What made you do that?”

“It was an impulsive decision,” Gavin admits, breath shaky as Niles continues to massage his chest. “When you asked me about the bruises- ah, I thought… what dom wouldn’t want to see their marks? I wanted to share them with you. Sir.”

“You do not seem to regret that decision.” Niles rubs the pads of his index fingers over Gavin’s nipples, teasing them to hardness. “Tell me more.”

“I was nervous.” Gavin arches forward into the touch, closing his eyes once more. It’s not as much stimulation as he would get from skin on skin, but the distance between them is enticing in itself. “Tina told me I was being an idiot. That I should send the picture, the first one, so I did. Fuck. I don’t regret it, I liked- like knowing you’re pleased with me, sir.”

“I am very pleased.” Niles smiles while Gavin can’t see him, twisting one nipple between two fingers to see him gasp and pull at the ropes. “There is no need to be nervous with me. Our relationship is an open line of communication. Now, I suppose I should reward you for your proactivity. What do you think?”

“I think-“ Gavin pauses, looks at Niles and swallows thickly. He knows he should be humble, put himself at the mercy of his dominant, but he’s comfortable enough with this man to feel an old spark rise in his chest. “I think I deserve new marks, as many as you want to give me. And that damn better be a lot of them.”

Niles arches an eyebrow, his touch turning light once more as he flattens his hands onto Gavin’s chest.

“Sir,” Gavin adds with a crooked smile.

“Was that a demand, Gavin?” His voice is calm, but there’s a challenge there. Gavin knows he’s toeing the line between reward and punishment.

“No, sir. Only an observation.”

“You should watch your tone,” Niles warns, taking a step back and pulling his hands away. Gavin follows them with his eyes, disappointed at the loss. “You do deserve a reward; however mouthy you may be today. Will you behave?”

“Yes, sir.”

Gavin feels himself relax at the sight of Niles’s approving smile, a minuscule upward tilt of those thin lips. He’s doing good. There’s a moment where both of them stop, the only sound in the room being Gavin’s breathing. They eye each other’s lips and there’s a new form of tension between them, but it’s gone as soon as Niles moves back beyond Gavin’s line of sight.

Counting his breaths, Gavin waits and listens. He feels the tickle of leather falls against his upper back, then tracing down his spine as Niles takes his shoulder with his free hand.

“I am starting with a flogger, but I want to use a single-tail today. Color?”

“So fucking green,” Gavin sighs, then squirms when the falls actually tickle his lower back. “Ah.”

“Where was that mouth the first time around?” Niles sounds amused, running his hand down Gavin’s back, then over his ribcage to wrap around his front. Gavin is rocked by a full body shudder when his dominant presses forward, clothed front against his nude back, breath hot on his neck. “You’ve made so much progress after just one session. I wonder what else I can draw out of you.”

“Sir.” Pushing back against the firm body behind him, Gavin feels as if his skin is on fire. There’s no direct contact, every inch below Niles’s neck covered by clothing, and nothing highlights Gavin’s exposed state more than that. His blush returns in full force as Niles splays his fingers over his chest.

“I asked you a question, Gavin.”

“I- I don’t know, sir. I think, shit, I think I was too nervous what you would think of me,” he admits, voice cracking slightly. His embarrassment and arousal are far superior to the discomfort of being honest.

“Thank you for being truthful. You’re so much better than I expected.”

A whimper escapes Gavin’s mouth when Niles’s hand finds his nipple again, tugging at it and twisting it between his fingers. The sound is pathetic but he can’t find the will to be ashamed of it.

“Don’t ever be afraid of my judgement,” Niles adds, more request than order, and then he’s stepping away and bringing the flogger back against Gavin’s back. “Will you ask for it?”

“Please.”

“No, Gavin, I want a full sentence.”

“God, fuck, please hit me. Sir.” There’s a low chuckle from behind him and then the gentle sting of the flogger against his upper back. It’s not nearly enough. “Harder.”

“I’m going to warm you up first,” Niles insists, giving him another soft blow. “The more you complain, the lighter I hit. Understood?”

“Damn- yes, sir.” Gavin bites his lip, endures the buildup – which is not half as frustrating as he expects, Niles alternating between strikes with the flogger and caresses with his gloved hand. As he loosens up and grows used to the idea, it begins to feel like a reward. The sweet praise Niles directs at him only drives him further into the mental submission he desires, feeling wanted and admired even as his arms begin to shake against the ropes that bind them.

He expects Niles to deliver the same treatment to his ass, basing his expectations off their first session, but it doesn’t happen. When his back and pink and stinging, he tries to call attention to it by arching and rocking himself onto his toes. He only hears an amused grunt in response, and then Niles is walking around to his front, dragging the flogger falls over his shoulder to rest against his chest.

“I want to reward you, but you need to be patient. Remember that?” Gavin nods in response, which provokes Niles to bring the leather down hard against his chest.

“Yes, sir,” he corrects himself verbally, breathlessly, trying to adjust to the pain in this new area. No one ever hit him on the chest before. He’s not complaining.

“Color.”

“Green.”

Gavin expects the strange newness of flogging his chest to take him out of the moment, but it does the opposite. As his skin begins to sting, he feels himself slipping into that blissful state of mind where the weight of his body becomes irrelevant, like he’s floating above it, taking all the pain and pleasure given to him without issue.

He’s further guided into subspace by the way Niles touches him, unable to keep his hands away for long as if he’s enchanted. Gavin knows that thought is not entirely logical and that the adoration he feels comes from the setup of their scene, but it seems real enough in the moment. That’s all he needs.

Gavin has no idea how much time passes between the first and last strike to his chest, but he glances down and sees his skin is red. Niles isn’t using enough pressure to cut or even bruise deeply, only what is necessary for superficial marks and the warming up period of their session.

There’s an empty moment when the falls stop hitting his chest, a brush of cold air against the newly sensitive skin when Niles pulls away and sets the flogger down. Gavin watches him through half-lidded eyes, exhaling shakily when those gloved hands find his skin again.

“You took that so well for your first time,” Niles praises, caressing the full expanse of Gavin’s chest, tweaking his nipples, letting his hands roam upwards towards the collar around his throat. “I am going to work you up slowly until you can wear those pretty bruises on your chest, too. Would you like that?”

“Yes, sir,” Gavin breathes. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip and he notices Niles’s gaze following the movement. A renewed surge of arousal courses through him. “Please.”

“Not today.” The reply almost makes Gavin voice his disappointment, but the leather-covered fingers are tracing his jaw with such care he can’t find the words for it. “One scene at a time.”

“Please,” Gavin says again, unsure what he’s asking for. Niles seems to know, because he presses closer and moves one hand up the side of Gavin’s face, into his hair, touching him intimately with a mixture of gentleness and control that makes him melt.

His knees are just short of giving out when Niles moves that hand to the back of his head, cradling it as he presses their foreheads together. His other hand wanders down to Gavin’s side, rubbing the skin in circles, trailing from his ribcage to his hip and back.

The silence lasts and Gavin starts to believe Niles is enjoying their scene as much as he is. While they’re both in this special headspace, the affection is genuine and intoxicating. Neither of them can get enough and Niles drags it on longer than he usually would, taking his time to just wind Gavin down from the pain until he’s ready to go again.

When Niles pulls away, Gavin instinctively tries to move forward into his arms, but all that does is send him temporarily off-balance as the ropes hold him in place. He’s vaguely aware of his arms shaking.

“Do you want to be let down?” Niles asks, circling around him and standing at his back, index finger following the line of his spine. “Color.”

“No, sir,” Gavin responds, closing his eyes. “Green.”

He’s expecting pain right away – the pause has lasted long enough. Instead, Niles goes back to massaging his upper back and kneading the muscles to get the blood flowing near the surface. This goes on for enough time that the first hard slap, delivered by an outstretched hand, startles Gavin enough for him to flinch away. Niles waits, presumably to see if he’ll safeword, then lands another on the opposite side of his back.

“That’s it,” Niles encourages him when he doesn’t flinch at the second slap. Open palms move over the tender area, but a moment later all contact ceases. Gavin can hear footsteps behind him and he _knows_ that’s Niles reaching for the whip.

Gavin is rationally aware of his bad experiences with single-tails. His mind is clouded by sensation, but he can feel the memories coming to the surface, the guys who didn’t know how to control the strength or aim of the whip, those who didn’t stop when it became too much. None of this makes him worry. Niles will know.

Despite that, his shoulders tighten when he hears the whip crack. The impact follows it and sends his brain signals that read _hot_ and _stinging_. The pain is nothing near what he’s experienced from past dominants – it’s enjoyable, enough to give him the mixture of fear and pleasure he craves so badly, the endorphin hit he usually associates with thicker thud toys.

Gavin takes a deep breath, wills himself to relax once more. That breath still catches in his throat when he hears the crack again, but this time it’s a positive tension. He expects the pain and is immediately relieved and stimulated each time the blow lands, his erection twitching with interest where it rests hard between his legs.

“How does that feel, Gavin?” Niles asks, calm and distant. Gavin expects to be touched in the time between lashes, but he’s left wanting.

“Good. It stings, sir.”

“Would you like more?”

“Please,” Gavin nods as he speaks.

“You’re going to count.” It’s not a question. Niles doesn’t give Gavin the time to protest, to say he’s too out of it to keep track, he simply cracks the whip once more and all Gavin can do is obey.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Six?_ A pause, where Gavin’s chest rises and falls almost painfully from the depth of his breaths. _Eight. Nine. Ten._

Gavin’s upper back is singing with sensation when Niles touches him again. His whole body shudders when the simple caress of hands is replaced by another embrace, the soft material of Niles’s suit provoking further stimulation to the red lashes across his back.

“That was good, Gavin, so good,” Niles starts, one hand folding over Gavin’s hipbone. “But I know you can do better. You missed number seven, am I supposed to keep rewarding you?”

“Ah- I’m sorry, sir.” Gavin leans his head back against his dominant’s shoulder, feels the stretch from being bent so strangely. “It’s so much… feeling, everywhere.”

“Can you take ten more?”

“I think so,” he answers, unsure. Nothing seems clear but he knows he wants to take more, wants to please Niles.

“That’s a yes or no question, Gavin.” It sounds like a warning, but Niles’s hand moves from Gavin’s hip to his stomach. His fingers brush over the large jagged scar on his lower abdomen, a diagonal line crisscrossed by thin lines from where the stitching held him together after the medics extracted the bullet. Gavin feels a moment of self-awareness as a result.

“Yes, sir.” Anything to take his thoughts away from how damaged he was, is, as a result of the war. He’s reminded of his face, eternally ruined, and the warmth and calm seem to fade. Gavin doesn’t know if he’s simply exiting subspace or if he’s dropping, he only knows he doesn’t want to feel it. It gets worse when Niles steps back from his body.

The whip cracks but never touches his skin. He flinches from the sound alone. There’s a notable change in his breathing and he shuts his eyes tight to try and regain the peace he felt before. He expects another crack, another blow, anything but the sight of Niles now standing in front of him.

“Gavin, color,” Niles demands and Gavin’s throat constricts. The collar is suddenly too tight. He knows he’s spiraling, knows this is his anxiety taking control of him, but he needs it off. He doesn’t want to let Niles down. Those thoughts clash as he stares into the careful, caring gray eyes that analyze him. “Color,” Niles repeats.

“Ah,” Gavin chokes on his breath, closing his eyes. He doesn’t want to do this, but he promised Niles they would keep this safe, sane and consensual. He nods to himself. “Red. Red.”

Niles drops the whip immediately. Gavin knows the floor is probably cleaned as regularly as the rest of the room, it has to be, but it still surprises him that Niles would be so uncaring towards one of his tools. He doesn’t have time to dwell on that thought because his chest constricts painfully around his next inhale.

In a matter of seconds after the clatter of the single-tail’s hilt hitting the floor, Niles’s hands are moving behind Gavin’s neck to unfasten the collar. That also drops to the floor.

“Do you want water now or after I untie you?” He asks, one hand cupping Gavin’s jaw. He’s careful to avoid touching his throat.

“After,” Gavin replies, slowly recovering his ability to breathe. It still hurts, but it becomes easier as he settles his full weight back on his feet. The rope loosens slowly. Niles guides Gavin’s arms down instead of letting them drop of their own accord, then swiftly but carefully removes the rope entirely.

Gavin’s balance sways, but he doesn’t allow himself to fall. Niles is watching him intently, one hand resting on his elbow and the other pressed flat to his sternum.

“Can you walk?” He asks. Gavin is glad he’s not required to answer verbally outside a scene because all he can do is nod and allow Niles to guide him towards the bed at the back of the room.

He falls back against the mattress, digging his teeth into his lower lip as he feels the sheets against his raw back. Not the best idea. With a heavy sigh, he pushes himself onto his side instead, looking up when Niles sits on the edge of the mattress.

“Do you want me to hold you?” A nod. “Water?” Another nod.

Gavin allows himself to be maneuvered into a sitting position, resting his side against Niles’s chest with his legs pulled over his dominant’s lap. He doesn’t see him reach for the bottle but is relieved when the uncapped mouth touches his lips. Gavin drinks slowly, allowing himself to breathe between swallows. He starts to calm down.

There’s still something missing as Niles wraps both arms round him, caressing his skin with reverence while still giving him space to breathe. It takes Gavin about two minutes to understand what he needs.

“Gloves,” he mutters, weak from the exhaustion caused by his anxiety. Niles hums a question and Gavin tries to speak up. “Your gloves.”

“Oh. Of course.” Niles’s hands retreat and Gavin hears the slide of leather against skin. When those hands return to his side, now bare, they’re hot and smooth. One cups his ribcage and the other starts moving in slow circles. “Better?”

Gavin doesn’t answer, but he presses closer to Niles’s chest and hides his face against the man’s neck. He feels overly aware of every mark on his body and, though it’s only a memory of pain, his nose seems to hurt. He doesn’t want Niles looking at it now.

“Gavin,” Niles calls his attention, nosing at his hair and tightening his hold just enough to be felt. “You did well today. I’m proud of you. I know it’s not easy for you to safeword, but you did, and that means I can trust you. That makes me very happy.”

A soft noise escapes Gavin’s throat without permission. He nods to let Niles know he’s heard, but he can’t bring himself to believe the pride his dominant claims to feel. He ended the scene early, how is that not a sign of weakness, a disappointment?

“You’re so good, Gavin. I want you to trust me now the way you trust me during our scenes. Let me take care of you,” Niles continues, slowly coaxing Gavin into a more relaxed state. His mind slows gradually with each word he hears. “Can you eat, or would you rather wait?”

“Not now,” Gavin whispers, hoping he’s understood the first time. The low hum that comes from Niles seems to indicate that.

“Let me know if there is anything I can do for you.”

A kiss is pressed to Gavin’s head, but he barely notices it. He means to say something, anything along the lines of _just this_ to let Niles know he only needs time, but his mouth won’t cooperate.

Gavin wakes up fifteen minutes later and only then realizes he fell asleep. It’s a slow awakening at first, but then he registers the warmth around him and jolts, startling Niles.

“You’re alright. You’re safe,” Niles soothes him, moving one hand from his side to his arm. His thumb brushes over the scar left from the time a bullet grazed through, but this time Gavin doesn’t focus on it.

“Sorry,” he replies, smiling for a second before falling back against Niles’s chest. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Do not apologize. It’s perfectly fine.” Niles squeezes Gavin’s arm, soft and reassuring. “Will you eat something now?”

“Yeah.” Gavin rubs his cheek against the dark fabric of Niles’s suit, then yawns. “What’ve we got?”

“Mango slices to keep your blood sugar up.”

“Mm, good.” He lingers in the embrace for another minute, then sits up straight and reaches for the covered plate by the bed. There’s a fork alongside the fruit under the dome, so he uses it to prevent the sticky juices from getting on his hands.

The fruit was sweet and refreshing. As he eats, Gavin feels his energy returning, the last of the panic dying down. He clears the plate and sets it back on the table, then finally meets Niles’s eyes. He looks thoughtful and concerned.

“What is it?” Gavin asks, brows creasing slightly.

“We need to discuss why you safeworded. Are you comfortable doing so now?” There’s no hint of disappointment in Niles’s voice, which reassures him, but the topic is still uncomfortable.

“I guess.” Gavin presses his lips together in a thin line, watching the other man’s reaction. His answer wasn’t good enough. “I mean, yeah. It’s not a big deal, I can talk.”

“Alright. You became tense when I touched you, not when I whipped you. Do you know the cause of that?”

Gavin nods. His hand moves from Niles’s chest to his own stomach, the pads of his fingers touching the same scar Niles had touched.

“It was this. The scar.” Niles inclines his head, but waits for elaboration on Gavin’s part. After another slow breath, he continues. “This one doesn’t bother me that much. It sucks but it’s not… shit. It just reminds me that I’m fucked up and ugly and that killed the mood.”

“I understand.” Niles covers Gavin’s hand with his own, but is careful not to touch the scar. Gavin smiles at how thoughtful that restraint is, but he feels a cold weight in his stomach when Niles speaks again. “You think your scars make you ugly?”

He didn’t sign up for this. He’s willing to expose his kinks and desires, but these insecurities… he didn’t even talk to Tina about them unless they sent him into debilitating panic, which is rare. Gavin waits too long to answer, but he nods.

“Fuck,” he exclaims, looking down to avoid Niles’s gaze. “I got used to it already. I just… sometimes it still gets to me, but it’s not a big deal.”

“Gavin. You’re not ugly. Your scars don’t make you ugly or undesirable, they’re symbols of resistance and strength. Survival.”

“I know that. I mean- the last part. But being strong doesn’t mean you’re a fucking model,” he mutters, staring at his bare knees. He’s starting to feel self-conscious about being naked at all.

“Maybe you’re not the most traditional beauty,” Niles starts, careful with his words but sincere enough that Gavin doesn’t scoff. “Maybe some people would be turned off by your scars. Me? I find you beautiful to look at, scars and all. You’re a handsome man with a strong body and a stronger mind, these marks you carry only add character.”

“Do you butter up all your subs when they tell you sob stories?” Gavin asks, half in jest. Niles doesn’t laugh.

“I’m not buttering you up. I’m telling you that while these insecurities are valid, they’re born of trauma and anxiety, and you should try to overcome them by allowing yourself to see different perspectives. From where I stand, you’re quite a sight.”

“You don’t have to say that shit to get me to come back.” Gavin frowns, bringing his knees up to his chest. “I’ll be back anyway.”

“Gavin,” Niles says again, prompting him to look up. “Our entire transaction is built on trust. Do you think I would lie to you?”

“… No. It’s just… my stupid brain,” Gavin admits, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“There you go. Trust me on this, anyone worthwhile would see your beauty, all scars included.”

“Thanks.” Gavin smiles again, only a weak upwards tilt of his lips. He’s not sure he can accept everything Niles is saying, but he knows he’s not lying, so maybe that’s one step forward.

“Can I let go? I should tend to your back.”

Gavin nods and moves off Niles’s lap, resting on his stomach as soon as the other man leaves the bed. His chest is still sensitive, but he wasn’t hit hard enough to demand any special care there and it’s likely any marks will fade over the next day.

The mattress dips again moments before Gavin feels the cool ointment on his back. He sighs pleasantly against a pillow and closes his eyes, allowing Niles massage it into his skin where he’s still marked by bright red streaks. He can tell his skin is raised as Niles’s fingers move over each lash. That’s comforting.

He drifts off again without noticing. Niles takes his time tending to Gavin, then moves on to collect the discarded tools from the floor and clean up. Gavin wakes up just as Niles finishes changing the cracker on the whip.

He doesn’t interrupt the cleanup, choosing to get dressed in silence. He pulls his phone from the pocket of his pants and frowns at the time – their session is supposed to be ending now, which means they finished far too early. The realization makes him feel weak.

“Hey,” Niles calls from across the room, hanging the whip back on the wall. “Drink some more water before you go.”

Gavin nods, taking the bottle from the bedside table and drinking the remaining water. He wipes the excess wetness from his lower lip with his thumb, drying that on his shirt. When his attention turns back to the space around him, Niles is standing by his side.

“Will you be alright to drive home?” he asks, clearly aware of Gavin’s mental fragility at the moment. Despite how cloudy his mind feels, Gavin nods.

“Don’t worry about it, man. And… thanks for everything.”

“Of course,” Niles echoes his response from their first scene. This time, instead of leading Gavin out right away, they share another moment of silent company. Finally, Gavin shuffles his feet and motions towards the door.

It’s only once he’s outside the studio that he texts Tina.

_Can I come over?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr @hassumccoy or @daughterofdeath and on twitter @xhelasdottir.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more of a breather between scenes than anything else. It's a little shorter than usual, but the word count will pick back up starting with chapter 5.

_How are you feeling, Gavin? Let me know if you require assistance. Are you handling the bruising well?_

Niles writes the text out of genuine care for his submissive, keeping the good habit of always checking in with his partners after a scene. He expects Gavin to write back with an equally innocent response, but what he gets is far better. He’s aware it borders on inappropriate, but there’s nothing explicit about the picture. Nothing that would suggest an interest beyond their professional relationship.

He rationalizes two reasons for Gavin to send him such a response: either he’s being provocative or he thinks it will please Niles. There is a third possibility where both are true. No matter the motivation for the picture, he can’t say he’s disappointed.

Niles thinks for long minutes about how to reply. His rational thought is slightly impeded by the shot of desire that runs through his body every time he glances at his phone – Gavin has a nice body, and seeing it covered in _his_ marks makes it even better. Finally, he settles on something to convey he’s appreciative yet not affected. It’s all part of the game.

_You bruise nicely, as expected. I am pleased there seem to be no complications._

Niles thanks his line of work for giving him some semblance of self-control as he closes their chat window and sets his phone aside as he prepares for an upcoming scene.

By the time his client arrives, all thoughts of Gavin have been wiped from his mind. Niles enters a very specific headspace for heavy degradation scenes, purging away any guilt or shame he might have at saying some of those things out loud outside a session. They only start once his mind is clear and focused, comfortable with the situation.

It’s the kind of scene where both parties require aftercare, but Niles knows he can’t ask that of his clients, so he focuses first on tending to his submissive. There’s a drop coming on, he can sense it, but he keeps himself stable long enough to see his client out the door.

Niles makes himself a cup of tea and loosens the buttons on his sleeve. While the tea is brewing, he sets his phone to play some classical music, something to keep his drop from coming on too hard.

He usually has no problem with the physical aspect of his work. Niles enjoys inflicting pain, pushing the limits, driving people to catharsis, knowing they’ll feel him for days after an encounter. What creates some divide in his mind is the level of extreme verbal degradation some of his submissives ask of him. He knows he could say no, could establish his own limits, but the moral backlash only truly hits him after he breaks a scene. It’s never bad enough for him to rationalize denying yet another service when his existing limits already cost him quite a number of potential clients.

Niles sits down on the bed, pulling a soft blanket up around his shoulders and leaning against the wall as he sips his tea. It takes time, but finds his center well enough to avoid the worst of it without needing help from Connor or North, and after another hour he feels secure enough to drive home.

He makes himself dinner and eats in silence, sitting alone at the table. It’s at times like these he misses sharing his space with Connor, having someone always present. The size of his house dwarfs him in comparison to the cramped apartment he rented with his twin after Amanda stopped supporting them.

After the dishes are washed and set to dry, Niles retires to his bedroom and changes into more comfortable clothes. His large bed is almost a nest, covered in soft pillows and plush blankets which he sinks into. Once settled, he turns on the television in search of some lighthearted series to watch.

When commercials come on, he switches his attention to his phone. The first text he reads is from Connor: a picture of huts by clear water followed by his brother excitedly informing him he will be taking a trip to the Maldives come summer. There were times when Niles might have obsessively worried over Connor going overseas with a client, but he had already travelled with Martha several times. He settles for congratulating him and sending a simple reminder of their standard safety measures should anything happen, however unlikely.

He skips over the thirty unread messages in the muted group text he reluctantly participates in, sends a brief reply to North’s picture of herself with Chloe, the girlfriend he hasn’t met yet, answers some clients with questions about upcoming scenes. Finally, he opens Gavin’s latest message and feels a smile take over his face.

_Thank you, sir. If you want, I’ll send you a picture every day so you can admire your work until it heals._

_The little shit_. Niles is starting to see streaks of Gavin’s mentioned brat tendencies, even if they’re subtle compared to his expectations. There’s nothing outright defiant about the messages, but they’re a sign of Gavin pushing himself, testing the waters to see how far he can go. Niles is not about to discourage him.

 _I would appreciate that_.

He flicks his thumb across the screen to scroll up and clicks on the picture once more, looking over the bruising he left on Gavin’s body. Few of his submissives bother with visual updates after a scene unless it’s part of their arrangement beforehand, but Niles enjoys and keeps every one of those pictures. They always make him feel proud and confident.

If he weren’t so tired, his body might have reacted with more vigor, but in this mental state the picture serves as more of an emotional comfort than an object of sexual desire. Niles tries not to think about how that might change in the upcoming days.

A good night’s rest and a full breakfast the next day help him recover from the drop, and Niles is thankful not to go through it again over the following two weeks despite having some intense scenes. He has an enjoyable time with one of his pups and a fun scene of public humiliation at a restaurant to lift his mood whenever things threaten to sour.

Every day for the next week and a half, he receives a new picture from Gavin. As the bruises fade, he can see more of the scars left behind by unskilled or uncaring dominants. That increases his determination to take care of Gavin, teach him until he can safely explore with partners of his choice without putting himself in danger.

When the messages stop coming because the bruises are no longer visible, Niles allows himself to feel a small tinge of disappointment. Once or twice, he goes back and looks through the first images as he plans their next scene, and again for less noble purposes when he finds himself alone at night.

Monday. Six in the afternoon. Gavin looks excited but he holds himself with far more confidence than their first time, posture perfect without unnecessary tension. Niles reminds himself to praise him for that when he gets the chance.

They go over Gavin’s safewords to start the scene and Niles feels himself slipping into that state of hyper-awareness, his focus increasing each time he winds the rope around Gavin’s wrists and forearms.

Niles feels a strong pull to touch every defined muscle, to assert his strength over someone who might easily be able to flip the tables on him if he so desired. He runs his gloved hands over Gavin’s arms and chest, all the while talking to him, warming him up for the main event. There’s a vulnerable honesty that shines through when Gavin answers his questions and it soothes away most of the worries Niles might have about taking him as a submissive despite his backstory.

He’s amused by Gavin’s usage of crude language, something he might control in the future, when Gavin is fully comfortable with their playtime. For now, he’s more than happy to let his submissive mouth off if it’s not directed at him in any way that might be seen as disrespectful.

Niles presses himself up against Gavin, feels his hard body through the fabric of his suit. There’s always that undercurrent of desire with submissives he’s attracted to, something that pulls him to break through the limits of their scenes and fully touch, but Niles is far too professional to ever give in. He allows his lips to linger a few inches from Gavin’s skin, breathing down on his neck and loving every reaction he gets.

When he pulls away, he teases Gavin with the flogger before finally giving him what he wants. He works on his submissive’s upper back until it’s beautifully highlighted by redness, watches the way Gavin arches as if to entice him to giving his ass a similar treatment. Niles has better plans.

He checks with Gavin, using the proper etiquette for any new scenario, and then paints his chest that same pretty shade of red. Niles isn’t ashamed to admit Gavin’s body fascinates him, a mixture of strong muscles and jagged scars that, when coupled with the way he holds himself, paint a picture of control. Niles aches to tear that control down with each hit of the flogger and each brush of his hand.

He promises more, works Gavin’s mind as well as his body, prepares him for future scenes by teasing what he has planned. He’s not expecting the soft plea he gets in return, but the desire for contact is plain as day on Gavin’s face. Niles gives in.

The lull in their scene lasts longer than either of them anticipate. Niles holds Gavin close, foreheads pressed together, watching the way his glassy eyes lose focus every time Niles’s gloved hand caresses his side.

There’s a moment where Niles thinks he could kiss him. It would be wrong, unprofessional, but if this weren’t a transactional scene this would be the time to share such intimacy. He knows the craving is natural, so he suppresses it without blaming himself for its existence.

He steps away to continue their scene and Gavin stumbles, uses the ropes to pull himself back up. Niles watches this carefully, observing the way his arms tremble from the effort of staying upright.

“Do you want to be let down?” he offers, walking to Gavin’s back, tracing the dip of his spine. “Color.”

“No, sir,” comes Gavin’s answer, weak and breathless. “Green.”

Niles nods to himself but keeps in mind that Gavin, in subspace, does not know what’s best for himself. He gives him more time to recover, massaging his upper back before he even thinks of moving on to the whip. He warms the skin well, kneads the muscles, then delivers a few hard slaps to measure Gavin’s reactions.

He seems good to go.

When he takes up the single-tail, Niles decides to focus on the impact rather than the psychological aspect of the toy. There’s always a thrill when the submissive doesn’t know if a hit will land or not, when the whip cracks but doesn’t land, a fear and anticipation that builds deep in their core. He’ll work on that in future scenes. Right now, what Gavin needs is to _feel_.

Niles is careful, measuring his movements so the crack comes before the impact, lessening the force of the blow and preventing the tool from drawing blood. He revels in the way Gavin’s breathing grows louder, in the sounds that escape him every time leather meets skin.

When Gavin’s back is covered in thin red stripes, Niles stops. He admires his work without touching, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. If only Gavin weren’t a client.

“How does that feel, Gavin?” They’ve been silent for too long. Niles can’t allow Gavin to drop because he forgot to speak, so he tries to bring his submissive’s attention back to him even as they stand apart.

“Good. It stings, sir.”

“Would you like more?” He’s giving Gavin an out, always giving him an out.

“Please.”

“You’re going to count.”

Niles immediately strikes again, lips twisting upwards into a smirk when Gavin obeys. That only falters when he miscounts. Niles’s next blow is more tentative, the crack softer, a test of Gavin’s ability to continue. He does well.

Curling the whip in one hand, he presses close against Gavin after the tenth blow, mixing praise with a small reprimand. He encourages Gavin to take more, all the while touching him with his free hand, wishing it were bare so he could feel where smooth skin gives and becomes the rough, indentured texture of scar tissue.

Niles senses the change as soon as it happens. Gavin grows tense once more, his response is strained, his breathing tight and controlled. Something is wrong.

He’s prepared to end the scene himself if Gavin doesn’t relax. He steps away to give him space, watches the way his shoulders bunch close to his neck. As a final test, he cracks the whip against empty air. Gavin’s flinch is all he needs to see.

Niles walks to Gavin’s front, looks him in the eye. He’s still unfocused, but this time he looks panicked and his breathing is erratic. “Gavin, color.”

No response. Gavin pulls at the ropes without seeming to notice and Niles frowns.

“Color,” he prompts again, prepared to drop the safeword himself if Gavin refrains from answering. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to.

At the sound of the first _red_ , Niles’s hand is already opening to release the whip. With Gavin’s breathing this unstable, he prioritizes removing the collar and comforting him through touch. He’s relieved when Gavin continues to respond verbally.

Once he unties Gavin and ensures he keeps his balance, Niles guides him toward the bed. They both take a minute to get comfortable, with Niles asking for permission before pulling Gavin into his arms and holding the water bottle up for him to drink from.

Steadily, Gavin’s breathing shifts and becomes calmer, his muscles start to relax. Niles guides him through this with gentle caresses, a physical reminder he’s cared for. He’s so preoccupied he even forgets his gloves until Gavin mentions them.

“Oh. Of course,” he says, more an apology than pure acknowledgement, as he bares his hands and returns them to Gavin’s skin. He keeps his touch to neutral areas, careful not to push any boundaries during their aftercare. “Better?”

Guilt strikes him when Gavin only presses closer. He can sense his distress in the way he’s holding himself, small and hidden against Niles’s neck.

“Gavin, you did well today. I’m proud of you. I know it’s not easy for you to safeword, but you did, and that means I can trust you. That makes me very happy.”

His words are soft and measured as he breathes in Gavin’s scent, nosing at his hair and holding him firmly. Gavin is clearly doubting him, overthinking things. Niles wonders if he ever had the courage to safeword before.

“You’re so good, Gavin,” he praises. “I want you to trust me now the way you trust me during our scenes. Let me take care of you.”

He must be doing something to get through to him, because Gavin verbalizes his answer to Niles asking him about food. His whole body goes lax and Niles can’t resist pressing a small, innocent kiss to the top of his head.

It takes almost no time for Gavin to fall asleep, snoring softly into the crook of Niles’s neck. This seems to be a pattern with him, but there’s no rush on either side, so Niles allows him to rest without disturbance.

Gavin startles awake and Niles almost jumps from how sudden it is, but then he’s immediately alert once more, soothing him with gentle words.

Warmth grows in his chest when Gavin snuggles up against him and rubs his face against his suit, getting comfortable. The affection and rest seem to have gotten him through the worst of his drop, and now he’s agreeing to eat of his own accord.

Niles watches him closely, keeping his hands on Gavin’s skin at all times. The other man seems calmer, he just needs to know if he’s calm enough to discuss what triggered his panic.

“What is it?” Gavin asks, breaking Niles from his thoughts.

“We need to discuss why you safeworded. Are you comfortable doing so now?”

“I guess.” Niles can see Gavin’s hesitancy. He can’t push him, knows well enough that if the time isn’t right, they’ll talk about it another day. The only set thing is that they need to go over it before engaging in another scene. “I mean, yeah. It’s not a big deal, I can talk.”

“Alright,” Niles starts. “You became tense when I touched you, not when I whipped you. Do you know the cause of that?”

Silence follows as Gavin’s hand moves down, and Niles sees him trace the largest scar on his body. It’s uneven and deep, as if carved into the muscle.

“It was this. The scar.” Another pause. Niles watches his face again, head tilted slightly to the side, noticing how Gavin struggles to keep himself calm. If he hyperventilates again, Niles will take it upon himself to postpone this discussion. “This one doesn’t bother me that much. It sucks but it’s not… shit. It just reminds me that I’m fucked up and ugly and that killed the mood.”

“I understand,” Niles says, although he’s not sure he does. He covers Gavin’s hand with his own, looks down to ensure he’s not touching the scar. He wants to, wants to run his fingers over every line of it and tell Gavin how much he likes it. It’s not something he can say in their situation. “You think your scars make you ugly?”

The silence that follows feels like a knife twisting in his stomach. Gavin is a nervous person, this he knows, but he still holds himself with confidence. Now Niles wonders if that’s just another cover.

“Fuck.” Gavin looks away from him and Niles resists the urge to guide him back. “I got used to it already. I just… sometimes it still gets to me, but it’s not a big deal.”

“Gavin. You’re not ugly.” Niles closes his eyes, forces himself to remain calm. “Your scars don’t make you ugly or undesirable, they’re symbols of resistance and strength. Survival.”

“I know that. I mean- the last part. But being strong doesn’t mean you’re a fucking model.”

“Maybe you’re not the most traditional beauty, maybe some people would be turned off by your scars. Me? I find you beautiful to look at, scars and all.” _Your scars are beautiful. Every one of them_. “You’re a handsome man with a strong body and a stronger mind, these marks you carry only add character.”

It’s not the best way to word it, but he needs to tread carefully and not make this personal. Gavin is trusting him in a professional capacity, which means he has to be honest within the boundaries set by their relationship.

“Do you butter up all your subs when they tell you sob stories?”

“I’m not buttering you up. I’m telling you that while these insecurities are valid, they’re born of trauma and anxiety, and you should try to overcome them by allowing yourself to see different perspectives. From where I stand, you’re quite a sight.”

“You don’t have to say that shit to get me to come back. I’ll be back anyway.” Gavin curls in on himself and Niles feels another stab of pain at the sight. He wants to be able to help.

“Gavin.” This time the other man looks at him and Niles offers him a weak smile. “Our entire transaction is built on trust. Do you think I would lie to you?”

“… No. It’s just… my stupid brain. Sorry.”

“There you go. Trust me on this, anyone worthwhile would see your beauty, all scars included.”

Finally, they seem to be getting somewhere. Gavin relaxes and returns his smile. Niles knows one small conversation won’t erase his insecurities, but he’ll gladly go through it all again if it means increasing Gavin’s confidence and improving his experiences.

With the heavy topic out of the way, Niles tends to the marks he left on Gavin’s body and lets him sleep again as he cleans up after their scene. He’s got everything back in order by the time Gavin wakes, hanging the whip back on the wall as he instructs the other man to drink water before leaving.

He’s still worried about Gavin even as he walks him out, but he can’t control their interactions outside the studio. Instead, he closes up and heads home, needing to wind down from the aftermath of the scene by himself.

Part of him wonders if the use of a single-tail aided the rise of Gavin’s anxiety. It’s clear the scars on his back were caused by a similar whip, and while Gavin still listed it as one of his desires, Niles thinks he might have held out on using it for a few more sessions. There’s that gnawing guilt that threatens to make him drop, and this time he decides not to go through it alone.

“North?” he asks as soon as his friend picks up the phone, ignoring the voices in the background. “Are you busy?”

“A little,” she answers. It’s followed by the muffled sound of her yelling at someone, and when she speaks again the background noise is gone. “The guys are driving me crazy.”

“Oh. Problems with the organization?”

“Yes, Josh and I can’t seem to agree on anything. What else is new?”

“Don’t lose your cool with Josh, you know he only wants what’s best for everyone.”

“Easy for you to say.” North sighs deeply, a sign of her exhaustion. Then her voice changes subtly, something Niles only picks up on due to years of interactions with her. “What did you do, anyway?”

“I do not understand.”

“You usually text, not call. If you call, you fought with a boyfriend, with Connor, or had a hard time with a sub. You don’t have a boyfriend, Markus’s phone didn’t go off, so you did something at work that got you down.”

“Jesus,” Niles breathes. “Am I really so predictable?”

“Sometimes. Now spill.”

“I would rather talk about it in person. If you can’t come, I’ll call Connor.”

“Call him, I’ll try to visit tomorrow if you still need me.”

“Don’t worry,” Niles assures her, feeling defeated at the prospect of having to be vulnerable around Connor. His brother is the closest person to him, but Niles has always seen himself as the stronger half, the protector. He pushes that notion aside. “Thank you, North.”

“Sure. Take care.”

When Niles calls Connor – almost immediately so as not to lose his courage – he’s answered by a low groan that tells him his twin is likely in bed.

“Con, are you busy?”

“No,” comes the answer, followed by a yawn. When Niles says nothing, Connor’s voice is suddenly more awake. “Did you drop?”

“Not really.” Niles sets the phone on speaker and places it on the bed as he removes his jacket, then works on the buttons of his shirt. “Come over anyway.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on, just need to get changed.”

“Of course.”

Silence follows and Niles finishes undressing, folding up his suit and shirt and setting them aside to be washed. He tucks his boots in close to the bed, socks folded inside each one, then grabs a clean towel from the closet and makes his way to the bathroom, settling for his usual cold shower to calm his nerves.

Once he’s bathed and clothed in light sweatpants and a loose shirt, Niles takes his place on the couch and turns on the news. He has a pillow on his lap, arms wrapped around it, when the front door opens.

“Does this mean you found your key?” he asks, not turning to look at Connor. He’s the only person who has a spare.

“What do you think?”

Niles smiles into his pillow, only glancing at his brother when he settles down on the couch beside him. Connor looks worried. He would.

“Hey, Ni. What’s going on?”

“I should have told you about this,” Niles starts, unsure of himself. “I had a bad drop two weeks ago. I dealt with it, it’s fine, but… today a scene went south and I might drop again. I’m not sure.”

“You promised to tell me when you drop, so I can be here for you.”

“I promised to call you when I need you. I didn’t need you.” Niles closes his eyes and purses his lips, forcing himself to admit the hard truth. “I do now.”

“Tell me,” Connor encourages him, moving closer so their knees are touching and placing one hand on Niles’s shoulder.

“I have a new submissive. This was our second scene.” He pushes his chin down into the pillow, hugging it closer to his chest. He dislikes this feeling, but he knows it’s essential to ensure he remains healthy, so he pushes through his hesitancy. “He has a complicated history and I’m not sure I’m making the right choice in taking him as a client, but I want to believe I am.”

“You said the scene ended badly.”

“It was simple. He’s one I would never start off hard, he needs to learn the basics before we can do that. But I acted without thinking and triggered a panic response when I touched his scars without asking for permission. He’s- he’s a veteran, I should have known better.”

“You can’t ask about everything,” Connor says, rolling his eyes when Niles turns to him prepared to debate. “Listen to me. You know better than anyone how to negotiate a scene, whether it’s sex or work. You taught me about consent and not being an idiot with my partners and the importance of communication. I understand all that. But you can’t ask about every single detail, and sometimes you’re going to do something the other person doesn’t like. That’s normal, right?”

Reluctantly, Niles nods. It’s not something he likes to think of, but he’s made enough mistakes in his career to know Connor’s reminder is important and comes from a good place.

“Don’t beat yourself up. You’re good at what you do, Niles. You care for your subs and always put them first, and I admire your work ethic. I know you’re making the right choices, even if it doesn’t always go smoothly.”

“When exactly did you become good at giving advice?”

“I don’t know, when did you get all soft?” Connor teases with a smile, giving his brother a light shove. Niles responds by throwing the pillow in his face.

“Thanks, Con. Do you mind spending the night?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Connor sets the pillow down and wraps one arm around Niles’s shoulders, pulling him close. “I’m always here for my little brother.”

“Four minutes doesn’t give you the right to call me that.” Niles rolls his eyes, but relaxes and leans against him.

“Being older gives me the right to call you anything I want. Do you want pizza?”

“Sure. Anything with spinach.”

“I might disown you.”

Niles laughs at the inside joke and pokes his twin in the side until he’s released, sitting up straight. “Just order it already.”

Three leftover slices of pizza are left to cool in the box as they watch the latest episode of Hell’s Kitchen. Niles complains, not for the first time, about the show’s lack of entertainment value after the departure of one Jean-Philippe Susilovic. Connor knows better than to argue.

That’s how they end up asleep on the couch for the third time in one month, heads resting against each other. Halfway through the night, Niles wakes up long enough to push Connor into lying down and position himself on the other end of the couch, feet thrown over his brother’s legs.

By the time the sun shines on his face, he’s alone in the living room. The pizza box is nowhere to be seen, their plates have been cleared away, and there are sounds coming from the kitchen. Niles checks the time on his phone, groans, and rolls over onto his stomach.

“Niles!” Connor calls from the kitchen not two minutes later. “I made breakfast!”

“No shit,” Niles mutters to himself. Despite his reluctance to get up before eight after a stressful night, he can’t exactly complain. He rubs his eyes with his knuckles and stretches as he stands, then walks over to the kitchen to find Connor plating two omelets.

He’s surprised to find specks of green and orange in the egg instead of cheese. Taking a plate and sitting down, he cuts out a piece of the omelet with his fork.

“The world must be ending if you’re cooking with vegetables,” he comments before taking his first bite. It’s not bad, but it lacks salt.

“I already told you I eat well. Get off my case, Ni,” Connor complains, joining him at the table. “You’re just around on my cheat days, that’s the problem.”

“Sure,” Niles teases. He knows it’s true, but with Connor’s atrocious taste for junk food, he can’t help but give him hell about it.

They finish eating in silence, but the way Connor keeps looking at him annoys Niles enough for him to kick his leg under the table.

“Stop that.”

“How are you feeling?” Connor asks, setting his fork down on the now empty plate.

“I’m alright. I need to check in with Gavin, make sure he’s recovering from the episode.”

“You’re worried.”

“Of course,” Niles replies, frowning. “He’s my responsibility when it comes to this. All of my submissives are, and I need to be certain of their wellbeing.”

“Talk to North,” Connor suggests, clearing their plates and standing to put them in the sink. “After you check with him, that is.”

“If I’m doing things wrong, North will scold me. You know how she gets.”

“If you’re doing things wrong, you deserve to hear it. Come on, Ni, she can help you better than I can with these things.”

“Fine,” Niles concedes. “Are you staying for lunch?”

“No. I have a date.”

“A real date?” he asks, already expecting the answer.

“Of course not. If it were a real date, I wouldn’t have to get a manicure beforehand. I’ll see you Sunday, okay?” Connor smiles and pats him on the head as he passes by the table. Niles fights the instinct to roll his eyes.

“What about the dishes?”

“I cooked; you clean. Call me if you need anything!”

Niles sighs calmly and leans back in his chair. His back is somewhat bothered by their odd sleeping positions, but he’s not focused on the pain. He was right to call Connor.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his phone to message Gavin. It’s early for him, but most people with regular jobs are already up and about. There’s a lot he wants to say, but he knows he can’t exactly send a wall of text, so he settles for simplicity.

_How are you feeling? I wanted to reach out last night but thought it best to let you sleep._

It’s more personal than any of the other messages they exchanged, but Niles wants Gavin to know he is genuinely worried. He knows the other man needs that kind of reassurance.

He knows he’s not going to deal with North this early in the morning, so instead he returns his phone to his pocket and stands to wash the dishes. There are two scenes scheduled for the afternoon, so he has enough time to go for a run before lunch and mentally prepare for them.

Niles ends up working up a sweat under the warm spring sun. It’s enough to soak his hair by the time he returns home, some of it clinging to his forehead. The exercise helps him focus; the time alone reminds him to prioritize properly.

He takes his time in the shower, goes over Connor’s words, prepares an explanation for North. The guilt and apprehension remain, but they’re not consuming him or impairing his rational thought. He can get through the day without cancelling any sessions.

The first thing he does after getting dressed is text North.

_It can be over the phone._

He imagines she won’t be happy about being dragged back into this world. It doesn’t matter, she’ll stand by him despite the discomfort, that’s part of the reason they’re friends. And, in the end, she is the one who got him started in this world.

Niles is halfway through a plate of roasted salmon with asparagus when she calls. He laments allowing the fish to cool before he finishes his meal, but no one refuses a call from North without having a solid reason, so he answers.

As he tells her all about Gavin, he separates flakes of fish with his fork, toying with his food in an uncharacteristic manner. He details what he knows about his submissive’s service in the army and current employment, his traumas, his insecurities, careful to do so without giving away his identity. There is a certain confidentiality to the service he provides.

He voices his personal concerns about Gavin’s mental and emotional wellbeing, his struggle with the nuances of practicing proper BDSM etiquette in such a delicate situation. When he starts to feel like he’s walking circles around the problem, he hears North click her tongue on the other end.

“You said he’s responding well to your dominance and he recognized his limits. So far as that continues, I don’t see what has you so worked up.”

It sounds simple when she says it. Niles has told himself those same things repeatedly, but hearing it from North is entirely different. His shoulders relax.

“I was afraid I would have to cut contact with him. He is a good submissive, I would not want to lose the chance to see him grow.”

“You think too much,” North insists, a hint of humor in her tone. “Were you really gonna make me drive over there just for this?”

“Maybe I wanted to see you,” he suggests, although they both know he would never reach out for that. It makes her laugh, at least.

“Sure, Niles. Don’t be a stranger.”

As he sets the phone down, Niles exhales his relief. If anyone would give him a hard time for a mistake it would be North, and the fact that she sees no issue with Gavin being his submissive means he must be on the right track.

He considers microwaving his lunch to warm it back up, then decides against it. Once the food is eaten and the dishes are washed, he changes into a clean suit and drives himself to work.

The first scene for the day is a soft one, standard kitten play with mild sensory depravation and a whole lot of pet names. It’s a blessing. His second client is a long-time submissive of Niles’s who enjoys varied levels of fear and pain play, and conserving energy through the first scene means Niles has enough energy to deliver the desired intensity.

He checks his phone between sessions, as usual, but there is no reply from Gavin. Niles rationalizes that between sleeping off his anxiety and having a full work day, the other man just hasn’t gotten to his personal messages, so he ignores the sinking feeling in his stomach.

After he cleans the handcuffs and sterilizes the knives used in the second scene, he checks again. Nothing.

Niles frowns at the screen, considers sending a follow-up message, but decides it’s best to give Gavin time. He doesn’t allow himself to grow truly worried until another two days pass without word from him.

_Gavin, please respond. We should talk about what happened._

It’s late Thursday night when he gets an answer. The message raises some alarm, but the simple fact Gavin bothered to reply is enough to calm Niles’s nerves. He needs to know he didn’t mess everything up.

 _Can I call you?_ is what he wrote.

 _Yes_.

Niles only has to wait ten minutes until his phone rings. He answers immediately, bringing it up to his ear.

“Gavin?”

“Hey,” comes the weak reply from the other end. Better than nothing.

“How are you? Your silence had me worried.”

“Sorry.” Gavin pauses, mumbles something Niles can’t hear, then apologizes again. “I’m just- shit, that was embarrassing, you know?”

“I’m not sure I do,” Niles answers honestly. “We had an emotionally taxing scene and conversation, but there is no shame in discussing your insecurities.”

“I didn’t mean to fuck up like that.”

“You did not ‘fuck up’, Gavin. You recognized your limits, let me know what set you off, allowed me to care for you. That is exactly what I expect when we are together, whether things go smoothly or not.”

“Sorry. Fuck. I’m not used to this, you know. You checking in on me, making sure I’m not in the shit after getting beat.”

“I know. You will get used to it in time,” Niles promises, sinking back against his pillows with a soft smile on his face. “How have you been these past few days?”

“Okay. Well, that’s a lie, I felt pretty shitty.” Gavin pauses again and it sounds like he’s tapping against his phone case. “Mostly because I wanted to answer you but I didn’t wanna own up to my issues. I stayed with Tina after the scene, though, she watched out for me and we talked things over… so I am okay now.”

“Thank you for being honest.” Niles is surprised at the intensity of his relief. He’s always had the fear of making irredeemable mistakes with his submissives, but Gavin is being open and allowing them to continue building their trust. “I am happy you have someone to support you.”

“Yeah, Tina’s great. She helped a lot.”

“Good. Hey, Gavin?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me you’ll get in touch after every scene, even if it’s difficult. I am responsible for your wellbeing in this context and would like to be informed.”

“Shit. I promise, I won’t ghost you again. Sorry.”

“And stop apologizing, it’s perfectly fine.”

Niles expects the call to end there, but somehow, they end up talking about how Gavin and Tina met, the promises they made during their time overseas and the work they put in to make them reality. Niles talks about Connor and his own brief stint as an actor in pornography, tells Gavin how they made ends meet after Amanda cut them off; when they hang up, he realizes they talked for nearly a whole hour.

Everything seems to go smoothly from then on. Gavin sends him a picture the next day, showing the last of the fading marks left by the whip, and Niles knows they’ll be fine.

Their schedule of meeting for a scene every other Monday becomes permanent, and Gavin never fails to update Niles on the state of his bruises, pictures included. It becomes a part of Niles’s routine, alongside other regular submissives and his Sundays off with Connor, and everything fits just right.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be a good time to inform you guys Pretty takes place in 2015. Also, Gavin consumes honey because his diet is purely about his health, not about the environment or animal exploitation.

By June, Gavin can’t believe he ever doubted the benefits of seeing a professional. He has fewer night terrors and, while bad dreams still haunt him most nights, he feels infinitely more rested in the days following a scene with Niles.

It’s not as if they have done many sessions, either – their fourth encounter is on the eight of June, the first to last three hours, where Niles decides Gavin is ready to be suspended and spends most of his time coiling rope around his torso and legs.

While he doesn’t sport as many bruises as usual after that scene, Gavin feels proud and fulfilled at his own progress. He’s starting to accept Niles’s praise more openly, to internalize it when panic strikes and he feels as if he’s worthless. It works well until the twenty-first.

“Gavin?” Tina opens the door in a confused, half-asleep haze, standing barefoot in her pajamas. She rubs at her eyes and yawns. “It’s five in the morning on a fucking Sunday.”

“Yeah,” is all Gavin offers in response, teeth digging into his lower lip.

“What I mean is – what are you doing here?”

“Third Sunday of June,” he forces out, hoping it’ll click. He doesn’t want to verbally acknowledge the damage that drove him to a thought spiral before the sun rose on Father’s Day.

“Third- oh. Shit. I forgot, come in.” Tina yawns as she steps away from the door. “I’ll put on some coffee.”

“No, Teeny.” Gavin enters and locks the door for her, dropping his bag on the floor and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go to bed. I didn’t sleep for shit and you look like you need a few more hours.”

“Yeah,” Tina concedes, resting her head against him and closing her eyes. They stand there for a minute before she forces herself to pull away and walk towards the bedroom or risk falling asleep on her feet.

Tina’s bed is softer than his own, but Gavin doesn’t feel strange about it when he slips under the light sheets and wraps himself around his friend, holding her to his chest. It’s as if a bubble of comfort forms around them, shielding Gavin from reminders of his father and brother, keeping his ghosts away.

“Been a while,” Tina mutters, clearly fighting to keep consciousness.

“Yeah. My birthday last year, I think,” Gavin replies, getting only a soft nod in return.

Her breathing evens out and Gavin’s left to watch over her, as if she were the one needing protection from this ridiculous date. He wouldn’t have it any other way; taking care of Tina makes him feel grounded, controlled. He rests his head on the pillow, tightens his arms around her middle and waits for the hours to pass.

He must fall asleep at some point, because he only remembers waking up and seeing the blinking light of Tina’s digital clock informing him it’s now nine o’clock. He’s about to close his eyes and try to rest more when a hand slaps his forearm.

“Lemme go, I need to pee,” Tina complains, wriggling out of his hold before the words process. She tugs her shirt down as she stands, then makes her way towards the bathroom with another loud yawn.

Gavin rolls over onto his back, rubs at his eyes, groans at the fog that takes over his brain when he’s so sleep deprived. Without having anything better to do, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, intent on scrolling mindlessly through social media. Instead, he’s greeted with a notification that knots his stomach – a message from Elijah.

_You should call dad. He’s in the hospital recovering from a stroke, so pretend that you care._

“What a fucking asshole,” Gavin croaks, his voice worn from exhaustion. He doesn’t expect a response, but Tina yells a _what_ from behind the closed bathroom door. “Eli thinks I owe dad shit just because he’s on his death bed.”

“Shit,” Tina calls back, then returns to the bedroom in the process of wiping her hands dry on her shirt. “You gonna call?”

“Fuck that.” Gavin shakes his head and drops his phone onto the bed. “Could use that coffee now.”

“Sure. Get your ass up and make some breakfast while I put the pot on.”

Gavin is thankful Tina keeps things he can eat on hand, considerate as she is, but this morning he brushes past all the vegan options and makes an omelet instead. When she asks him why he’s cracking eggs, he explains he’s not hungry.

He drinks his coffee while she eats, taps his fingers nervously against the table’s glass top. He can feel his energy building up to a boil, threatening to spill over with all the things that bother him about his family, and his brother is definitely not helping.

“If you hold that mug any tighter, you’re going to break it,” Tina points out, speaking around a mouthful of egg.

“I’m pissed,” Gavin admits, setting the mug down. “He doesn’t give a shit about how I feel. He hasn’t even talked to me in, what, five years? And no, shitty birthday messages don’t count.”

“You have every right to be angry.”

“I know, I just- don’t wanna be. I’m sick of panicking every time I remember my dad’s still out there, sick of Eli pretending we’re family after everything that went down.” Lowering his head onto his hands, Gavin clicks his tongue in annoyance. “And to think I was gonna reach out to him.”

“You were?” Tina almost scoffs, unsure if she should be surprised or alarmed at the admission. “Why the fuck would you?”

“Not like that! I need an assistant and he has ridiculously high standards. Figured if anyone could recommend someone competent, it would be that bastard. I don’t wanna ask him for anything, though.”

“It might be worth it,” she suggests, swallowing the last of her food. “You could always make it a trade instead of a favor.”

“Hm?”

“You call your old man if he gets you an assistant.”

“Shit,” Gavin breathes, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk to that homophobic fart.”

“I know. But what can he say to you that he didn’t already? You’re working yourself to the bone, and even if it’s better now, you can’t rely on Weston forever. Either you start delegating or you find an assistant.”

“Are you seriously telling me to call my dad?”

“No. I’m telling you to get your shit together. If you’re so set on your brother being the one to recommend someone, sure, talk to your dad. If not, find someone yourself. I want you to enjoy the comfort you earned, not work yourself to an early grave.”

“Fine,” Gavin concedes. “But I’m not being nice to either of them.”

“Hey.” Tina grins, almost predatory. “No one’s asking you to be nice. I know you better than that, Gav.”

Surprised, Gavin returns her grin and reaches for his phone, already dialing Elijah’s number. “If I were straight, I would kiss you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Kamski here,” Elijah answers before Gavin can say another word. Hearing his voice for the first time in years sends Gavin reeling, but he forces himself to act naturally.

“Don’t have my number saved?”

“No. Did you call dad?”

“No,” Gavin answers honestly. “Are you at the hospital?”

“Busy. Are you going to call him?”

“Of course, you’re fucking busy.”

“Gavin, please be mature about this. Our father is ill, the least you can do is show some emotional support, since you’re not willing to help with the bills.”

“Right. You’re right, I’m a horrible son,” Gavin admits, leaning back in his chair. Tina watches him closely, hands folded over each other on the table. “I don’t know why I’m such a fuck-up. I should be there for the man who tried to beat me straight, shouldn’t I? The man who provided for me when we couldn’t afford more than mayonnaise sandwiches, only for me to find out his actual paycheck was going to the bitch he was fucking on the side and his secret son.”

“He has made mistakes and treated both of us unfairly, but he is still our father.”

“He’s treated you unfairly? I thought you were the golden son, the bastard with a computer brain,” Gavin spits, unable to hold back his resentment. He knows Elijah isn’t to blame for their father’s favoritism, but he certainly soaked it up without second thought.

“Did you call me to vent your frustrations about our childhood?” Elijah asks, sounding unphased.

“No.” Gavin doesn’t allow his brother’s coldness to affect him, breathing deeply to cool the irritation that threatens to take over. “I’ll call the fucker if you do something for me.”

“If you want money-“

“Fuck you. I know you don’t give enough of a shit to keep up, but I’ve done good for myself. I don’t need your charity, Eli.”

“What, then?” Elijah sounds surprised – Gavin is pleased he broke through the shell enough to cause a reaction, small as it may be.

“You’re an ass but you’ve got high standards. I need an assistant, figured you’d know someone competent.”

“You want me to recommend someone? I wasn’t aware of your regard for my opinion.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I know just the one. She’s the best assistant I ever had; she might need time adjusting to the new environment but I assure you she’s extremely qualified.”

“Good.” Gavin bites his lower lip again, drags his teeth over it and lowers his gaze. “Thanks, Eli.”

“No problem, Gavin.” There’s a pause where Gavin thinks his brother might hang up on him, but instead he hears a soft sigh. “You don’t have to call him. I’ll send flowers in your name.”

“Really?”

“It will save you the lecture.”

“Right. Bye.” Gavin ends the call himself, his face rapidly shifting between expressions – a frown, a nervous smile, eyes wide in surprise, then neutral again. “Shit.”

“How was that?” Tina asks, as if she hadn’t been listening to his side of the conversation.

“He’s being reasonable. I mean, he was being a bitch, but then he just… backed off. Said I don’t have to call dad.” Gavin smiles again, exhaling through upturned lips. “Still fucking hate him.”

“Good.” Tina pushes herself up, stretching her arms above her head. She rolls her shoulders back, then takes up both their empty mugs and deposits them in the sink. “How about we hit the compound and shoot some rounds?”

“I thought the point of weekends was not working.” Gavin pretends to think about it, as if the thought of his father weren’t enough to get his trigger finger itching. “Fine. You drive.”

“Sure, I’ll get changed.”

Tina knows what she’s doing, because when Gavin picks up a loaded gun, every other thought leaves his mind. His father, his brother, his bad night of sleep, his horrible schedule, the fact he hasn’t had sex in nearly two months. All he sees is the target.

It becomes a game with them. Tina lists off body parts, Gavin shoots. Gavin lists off body parts, Tina shoots. She’s out of practice, but her aim is still decent, so he only teases her a few times.

By the time they retire their guns, both of them are calmer, joking around and pushing each other as they make their way back to the car.

“Seeing him tomorrow?” Tina asks, and Gavin feels his face heat up. It’s an automatic response and he absolutely hates it.

“Yeah. Means I’ll have my shit together by the time I talk to the chick Eli’s sending my way,” Gavin supplies, unwilling to tempt her into an actual conversation about Niles. He’s perfectly happy denying his starry-eyed admiration for the man until it’s time to submit to him.

“Right. You getting any dick?”

“Jesus, Tina. Watch your fucking mouth.”

She laughs and grabs onto his arm, hooking her fingers around the inner curve of his elbow. “Gavin Reed, celibate.”

“I’m not celibate. I just haven’t had the need to fuck around, okay?”

“This have anything to do with your crush on Weston?”

“No!” Gavin goes defensive, then deflates and rolls his eyes. “Not a crush, but uh. I didn’t tell you this- he did porn.”

“Oh.”

“He has tattoos. Under that stupid, hot black suit he wears, he has a full fucking sleeve of tattoos.”

“Oh.”

“And if he knew what he was doing when he was that age, he must be a fucking animal now. I can’t get the idea out of my head, but he’s so good as my dom and I can’t fuck it up. Remember the website? Sex is off the table.”

“Of course you’d get hung up over the one guy you can’t bag.” Tina sighs, losing her teasing edge and resting her head against his arm. “I was just playing when I said you had a crush on him.”

“Yeah. Sucks to be me.” Gavin chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t sweat it. I think it’s just because he’s competent and distant, I’d probably hate actually sleeping with him. If I need to blow off some steam, I’ll hit the clubs and find someone to hook up with.”

“If you’re sure.” Tina watches him for another moment, then smirks. “If you get desperate, I am not fucking you with a plastic dick.”

“Fuck off, Chen.” He pushes her away and laughs as she stumbles, then catches the car keys in the air when she throws them his way.

They end up buying beer for Tina and juice for Gavin before driving back to her place and drinking all of it while playing Mortal Kombat, sitting on the floor in front of the couch with controllers in their hands until the sun goes down.

Gavin only leaves after dinner. He sleeps well enough that night, only waking up twice from his nightmares, which he counts as a win. He wakes up to an impersonal e-mail from Elijah and two from Traci, the latter reminding him of scheduled conference calls for the day.

Work is a pain, as usual, but he gets through it without issue. He’s even getting used to being polite and respectful, which might be a sign of the times. It doesn’t hurt that he gets rewarded for it twice a month.

At six o’clock sharp, he meets Niles at the studio for their next scene. Something is different this time, because he doesn’t feel the need for pain. It’s a new and foreign desire to please without direct compensation, but by now he knows Niles won’t judge him.

“Your water,” Niles offers, handing him the tall glass with a friendly smile. “Is there anything specific you would like today?”

Gavin drinks before he answers, feeling sweat gather in his palms. He hands the empty glass back and shrugs. “Maybe.”

“I will need a direct answer.”

“Yeah,” Gavin admits, eyes fixed on the floor. He hears Niles walking around, hears the glass as it’s set on the table, and then more footsteps as Niles returns to his side. “It’s not my usual thing.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“I want to please you. Like- shit. Uh. You know I’m not a fucking service sub, right?” Gavin feels a little uncomfortable using the proper terminology, but he tries it anyway, wants to do this without making any mistakes. “But today, I think… I don’t want… I just want to make you happy.”

“Gloves?” Niles asks, as if nothing Gavin said surprises him.

“Please.”

“Go over your safewords.”

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, green for okay. Unsat for stop.”

“Strip and kneel by the bed,” Niles instructs, smoothing down his suit jacket and reaching for his leather gloves. He pulls them on slowly, flexing his fingers once they’re on, looking anywhere but Gavin as he undresses and folds his clothes.

Gavin settles on his knees and rests his open hands on his thighs, waiting for instructions. He doesn’t dare watch Niles, letting the anticipation build instead as he hears him rummaging through the cabinets. He doesn’t expect to be approached with a pillow.

“Use this for your comfort.”

“Thank you, sir.” Gavin takes the pillow in his hands, but doesn’t use it just yet. He’s distracted by Niles unbuttoning his jacket and sitting down on the bed, legs spread invitingly. For a brief moment, he’s reminded of a scene he watched – a scene he should not have watched – in one of Niles’s old movies.

“Come here.”

Gavin moves forward without getting up, settling between Niles’s legs and tucking the pillow under his knees. He sits back on his ankles, completely aware of his nakedness and overwhelmed with the need to know what will happen next. He doesn’t realize he’s looking down until it’s pointed out.

“Eyes on me, Gavin.”

Something about the way Niles says that with only enough volume to be heard makes Gavin’s heart stutter. He meets his dominant’s eyes, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. It’s hard to stay still with the uncertainty he feels regarding this situation, but he wants to please, so he wills himself to relax and sits there for as long as Niles wants him to.

It seems like an eternity before anything happens, but the first touch sends sparks flying through Gavin’s system. Niles brushes his fingers over Gavin’s cheek, slow and barely touching, almost reverently.

“Gavin,” he murmurs, and it’s all Gavin can do not to melt into his touch. “What are you?”

“What?” Gavin asks, a little dazed from the softness of this encounter. He draws his brows together, glances down, then meets Niles’s eyes again. “I don’t understand.”

“Look at you. So rough around the edges, with your scars and your curated stubble,” Niles continues, trailing his fingers down to gently rub at the hair along Gavin’s jawline. “So gentle when you’re at my feet, all pink lips and expressive eyes. What are you?”

“Oh,” Gavin breathes, struggling to find the right answer. He doesn’t know what Niles wants to hear, but it’s not that he’s a mess. “I’m… good?”

“Close. You are good, but that is not what I am looking for now. What do I always tell you, sweetheart?”

“Fuck.”

“Language,” Niles scolds him, gripping his chin a little tighter. Gavin swallows and nods, and the touch turns back into a soft caress.

“Do I need to say it?”

“Yes, baby. It would make me proud, isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes, sir.” Gavin is unable to stop his hands from forming fists, knuckles digging into his thighs as he tries to will himself to give Niles the answer he’s looking for. He closes his eyes, counts his breaths, opens them again. “Beautiful.”

“What was that?”

“I’m beautiful, sir.”

“Was that difficult to say?” Niles asks, tracing Gavin’s cheekbone with his thumb.

“Yes, sir,” Gavin admits, his embarrassment burning from his chest to the tips of his ears.

“You’re more comfortable when I’m rough with you. When I’m the one saying these things, taking you out of your comfort zone.” It’s not a question, so Gavin doesn’t answer. “You want this, though. You want to be taken care of and reminded of your worth, isn’t that why you’re so eager to please?”

“I’m… not sure why I want this.”

“I know. You’re not the most introspective person, but you’re so captivating.” Niles runs his index finger over Gavin’s lower lip, smiles when his mouth parts just enough to be seen. “I’m going to take care of you, and I know you’ll please me.”

“Yes, sir.” Gavin’s eyes slip closed again as the leather lingers on his lips. There’s something so pure and sincere behind Niles’s words, something strong enough to make Gavin believe him. He doesn’t have the willpower to remind himself this is just something the other man does for money.

Instead of pulling back his hand, Niles rests a second finger against Gavin’s lips, presses down gently instead of making a verbal request. It takes a minute for Gavin to understand, but his mouth falls open obediently.

“Good boy,” Niles praises, using his free hand to stroke Gavin’s hair. “Color.”

“Green,” he replies, looking up at Niles once more. He hesitates, but a second later he opens his mouth again, tongue extended just enough to rest over his lower lip. Niles’s eyes darken and Gavin shivers.

His cock twitching is the least interesting reaction Gavin has when two fingers slip into his mouth, coating his tongue in the taste of clean leather. The sound that leaves his throat, completely instinctive, is the most embarrassing, though his eyes rolling back is a close second.

“God, Gavin,” Niles breathes, and it sounds unplanned. Something in his composure cracks, but it’s quickly patched by the time Gavin can focus again. “Show me what you can do with your mouth, sweetheart.”

Gavin shifts and moves to rest his hands on Niles’s legs for support, but a warning look makes him reconsider. He returns them to his thighs, carefully folded, then closes his lips around Niles’s fingers and sucks them in. He knows Niles can probably feel very little of what he does with his tongue, sensation dulled by the added layer of the gloves between them, but he still wants to impress.

If the noticeable bulge in Niles’s slacks is any indication, he’s doing a good job. Encouraged, Gavin leans back enough that only the tips of his fingers rest inside his mouth, then pushes forward again to take them down to the knuckle.

“There you go,” Niles encourages him, holding his hand completely still while the other pets Gavin’s hair. When gloved fingers touch his neck, press over his pulse point, he realizes for the first time that they’re not using a play collar. He wants to ask why, but he wasn’t told to stop using his mouth, so he doesn’t.

Gavin isn’t expecting to feel distant and light simply from sucking on Niles’s fingers, but subspace hits him like a freight train. It’s sudden and hard and the arousal coursing through his body skyrockets as his brain fogs over. He puts all of himself into the task at hand, rolling his tongue around and between Niles’s fingers, using his lips for pressure, covering his teeth even though he knows they can’t be felt.

At some point, his jaw starts feeling sore. He looks up at Niles with his eyes clouded by lust, sees the way his dominant is watching him with unrivaled intensity, and pushes himself to continue.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Niles asks, a break from his praise but not a reprimand. He withdraws his fingers slowly, wipes them dry on the bedding. Without asking if Gavin wants it, he reaches for the bottle of water on the table and passes it over. “Drink.”

“Thank you, sir.” Gavin fumbles with the cap on the bottle, and when he drinks some water spills out the sides of his mouth. Too far gone to be embarrassed, he hands the bottle back and dries his chin on the back of his hand. He can still taste the leather.

“Color.”

“Green,” Gavin replies. “You don’t have to ask that often.”

“We’re doing something new,” Niles explains, serious and firm, breaking character to remind Gavin of what this is. “I check on you as often as I feel the need to. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry.”

“Don’t be upset.” Niles cups his jaw, makes him look up again, and smiles in the way that makes all of Gavin’s worries go away. “I’m looking out for you, that’s all.”

“I know. Thank you, sir.” Gavin feels a swell of pride at Niles’s approving nod, so he allows himself to lean into the touch, pressing his cheek into Niles’s palm.

“You’re not a service submissive,” Niles says, echoing Gavin’s earlier words. “But there is something I want you to do for me. Would you be willing to try?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stand.”

Gavin pushes himself up and feels a dull ache in his knees, but it’s not entirely unpleasant. He takes a step back when Niles joins him on his feet, watching as he raises both hands into the space between them.

“My gloves,” Niles instructs him, motioning with his head. Gavin immediately reaches for his right hand, peels off the glove with care, then repeats the process on the left. “By the pillow.”

Gavin sets them down as ordered, then returns to stand in front of Niles, hands clasped modestly at his front.

“Go on. My jacket.”

Gavin looks up at him for confirmation, exhales slowly as his mind provides him with images of Niles’s naked body, tries to keep his arousal from being any more apparent than it already is. Before Niles can ask for his color again, Gavin reaches for his jacket and slides it off his shoulders, down his arms. He folds it carefully and sets it on the bed without needing to be told.

“My shirt. Don’t forget the sleeves.”

Gavin unbuttons the sleeves first, again starting with the right hand and moving to the left. He can see some dark ink peeking out from the small amount of exposed skin on Niles’s forearm and it makes his mouth feel dry. That feeling only intensifies as he exposes Niles’s chest and sees new tattoos, ones that weren’t shown in the old porn he found when searching his name.

His chest piece is centralized, a black ink triangle framing an anatomical heart surrounded by flowers. The bulk of it sits right over his sternum, and there’s a final element right below his collarbone – a moth flying upwards, wings extended and as detailed as the veins on the heart. Gavin wants to touch it, but he knows better.

He pushes Niles’s shirt off and finds that he has two full sleeves instead of one. There’s no time to analyze every design covering his arms, Gavin has to fold the shirt and get back in position, but what he can see is incredibly realistic black and gray work, details the camera could never pick up on.

Gavin isn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t color. The sleeve he had never seen is an intricate collection of blue roses on a black and gray background. As it crests his shoulder, the tattoo turns into an ink splatter, pure black on white skin. There are other elements in the mix – a pocket watch with exposed cogs, white text on a blacked-out portion of his inner forearm. It’s breathtaking.

That’s when he realizes Niles is letting him look. Meeting his eyes for permission, Gavin then shifts his gaze to his already somewhat familiar left arm. This one is completely black and gray, the imagery more specific and seemingly religious. It starts with an angel statue on his forearm, perfect except for a tear rolling down its cheek. Above it, the same angel spreads its wings as if in agony, mouth open in a scream. The upper arm portrays a figure with darker wings, seemingly damaged, horns growing from its forehead. It’s topped off by smoke rising to the curve of his shoulder and the image of a skull.

“I never noticed the details in the smoke,” Gavin says, probably because the calm of subspace leaves him with no filter. He doesn’t even realize the words came out of his mouth until Niles asks about them.

“Did you watch me?” The question is direct, but there’s a playful edge to his voice. Teasing. Gavin blushes as he realizes his stumble.

“I was curious. After you mentioned- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. Sir.”

“Gavin.” Niles smiles, traces his jawline with a bare fingertip, shakes his head in amusement. “That’s perfectly fine. I thought you might find those. There’s no need to be ashamed, they were made for watching.”

“I feel like I fucking creeped on you or some shit, I just-“

Niles stops him by placing his index finger over his lips. “Language. Are you ready to proceed?”

“Uh. Green.”

Gavin swallows thickly as he watches Niles sit back on the bed, wondering what exactly they’re doing. This feels different. Intimate. Personal. His teeth catch on the inside of his cheek when Niles lies down on his stomach, arms crossed under his head.

He stands frozen, unsure what he’s supposed to do.

“I have some tension to work out. I hope your hands are good.”

Gavin remembers mentioning the time Tina pushed him to learn proper massage techniques to help her out before she could afford spa days, and everything clicks into place. He carefully kneels on the bed, then moves to straddle Niles’s thighs, becoming very aware of his erection against the back of the other man’s pants. It doesn’t seem to cause discomfort but Gavin still has to fight not to seek friction.

Instead, he rubs his hands together to warm them.

“It would be easier if we had oil, sir.”

“We do. You’ll do fine without it, go on,” Niles encourages.

Gavin nods, though Niles can’t see him. He shifts his weight forward, rests his hands on Niles’s lower back and drags them up in long, fluid strokes, increasing in pressure as the muscles warm to his touch.

Focusing on his upper back, Gavin kneads the muscles, raises them with his fingers, alternating pressure when necessary. This draws low groans from Niles, who relaxes effectively under his ministrations.

When he’s sure to have worked out the knots that bothered Niles, he rolls his hands into fists and drags his knuckles down the sides of his spine, pressing in as he reaches his lower back. He alternates between this and firm kneading until Niles orders him to stop.

Gavin climbs off almost immediately, initially standing at attention and then remembering to relax. Niles seems to find this amusing, from the low chuckle that escapes him as he sits up.

“You were good, Gavin. Thank you for being so good for me.”

“Of course, sir.”

“What did you think of that?”

“I-“ Gavin tilts his head, then shrugs, then winces as he realizes that might be disrespectful.

“Relax, breathe. Tell me the truth.”

“I enjoy doing it. It’s not… my thing, though, for this headspace. Got me out of it a little.”

Niles nods, understanding, and reaches forward to run his fingers over Gavin’s hipbone. “Do you want to stop here?”

“Kinda,” Gavin admits. “I’m not bothered, though, I just don’t feel it.”

“That’s okay. Safeword.”

“Unsat.”

Niles motions towards Gavin’s clothes, recognizing that he’s in a steady enough state to dress himself before they do anything else. By the time Gavin is back in his jeans, Niles is already buttoning up his shirt.

For the first time, Gavin is fully dressed during aftercare. He sits on the bed beside Niles, their thighs touching as he eats his fruit.

“I was into the first thing,” Gavin offers after a long interval. He smiles to hide his embarrassment, looking anywhere but Niles as he bites down on another strawberry.

“Is that something you would like to try again?”

“Said I was into it, didn’t I?”

“Hm.” Niles hums, gently nudging his shoulder. “Sorry for pushing you out of subspace before you were ready.”

“It’s fine. I still liked it, and you really needed that massage. You’d think with what we pay you, you could afford a spa.”

“Hah. I can, but why bother when I have such talented submissives?”

“Oh, really?” Gavin laughs.

Niles shrugs and leans back against the wall, and everything feels right.

It takes a total of twenty minutes in his car for Gavin to panic. He pulls over on the side of the road, hits the steering wheel with his open hand as he hyperventilates, chanting _shit_ like a mantra.

“Shit. Shit. Shit, fuck, shit,” he curses, fumbling for his phone and dropping it between the pedals. He has to bend awkwardly to reach it, but eventually he does, gets a steady enough grip to swipe his password in with shaking fingers and call Tina.

It rings for fifteen full seconds, then goes to voicemail. Gavin spits out another string of curses, tries and fails to count his breaths, dials again.

On the third try, Tina answers.

“Gav?”

“I’m in love with him.”

“What?”

“Niles,” Gavin chokes, slamming his steering wheel again for good measure. “I’m in love with Niles fucking Weston.”

“Gavin, it’s only been two months. People don’t fall in love that fast, it’s… infatuation,” Tina tries to reason, but she sounds worried.

“No. No, it’s- since we talked that night, we’ve… fuck. He’s talked to me about personal shit, you know? And then today we did something different because I was fucked up from yesterday and half of it was the most sexual we ever got, half of it was… I don’t know. We ended early because he killed the mood but I’m not even mad because it was _domestic_. God, listen to me, what the fuck?”

“Gavin, count.”

“I’m fucking trying!” Gavin coughs at his own outburst, then closes his eyes and tries again. Five in, hold, five out. Five in, hold, five out. “I’m trying.”

“Do you want to come over?”

“No,” Gavin replies honestly. “I just wanna get home and pretend I didn’t go from chasing guys who treat me like shit to falling for the one guy I can’t have.”

“Hey. We can work this out, it’s okay. I’m crashing at yours if you don’t come here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t do anything stupid. No gas station stops, no relapses.”

“Got it,” Gavin promises, slowing his breathing enough for it not to hurt. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not, but you will be.”

He takes another fifteen minutes to calm down, ashamed of his own reaction. He knows he should tell Niles – not that he’s in love with him, no, but that he panicked after a scene – but it’s too fresh in his mind.

Gavin finally feels stable enough to drive home without losing control, but he still takes it slow, being more careful than usual and probably angering the cars behind him with his respect for the speed limit. When he reaches the house, all he wants to do is fall into bed and pretend this is a bad dream.

He’s halfway down another thought spiral when something light and plastic-sounding hits him in the back of the head. He rolls over on his back and reaches for the offending object, finding a bag of seaweed strips.

“What the fuck, Tina?”

“Take your shoes off or you’ll hate yourself tomorrow,” she says, instead of offering any explanation.

“I have no trouble hating myself today.” Gavin pushes himself further down the mattress despite his words, toeing his shoes off and allowing them to fall haphazardly to the floor. “Happy?”

“Not while you’re being gloomy. Wanna talk?”

“No.”

“What do you want?”

“Confessions of a Shopaholic.”

“Shit,” Tina laughs. “Fine, sit tight, I’ll grab the DVD.”

Gavin’s not sure what part of their friendship allows Tina to use him as her footrest, but he doesn’t have the energy to complain. Instead, he chews on strips of seaweed as Rebecca Bloomwood builds and ruins her career and relationships, trying to convince himself that he, too, can land Hugh Dancy.

After the movie, Tina insists on cooking him real food and refuses to bring it to him in bed. Gavin ends up draped over the kitchen table, head resting in the crook of his elbow as he talks about Niles.

“He’s way out of my league. I try to believe the shit he says about me; I do when we’re in the zone, but it’s just because I pay him. Sometimes it makes me wonder if anyone could actually like me the way he pretends to.”

“Are you sure he’s not into you?” Tina asks, spooning lentil soup into a bowl and placing it in front of him.

“Are you sure you’re not a sadist? Soup in the summer?”

“Gavin.”

“No, he’s not into me, don’t be stupid.” Gavin picks up his spoon, dips it in the soup, then raises it to watch the green liquid drip back into the bowl. “He’s my dom, and I think he’s my friend, but that’s it.”

“Okay. So, move on, find someone you can be with.”

“That’s not going to happen while I’m still seeing him,” Gavin replies, frowning.

“Are you going to stop seeing him?”

“No.” Gavin rolls his eyes at her pointed look. “He’s good for me. He takes care of me; I feel good when I’m with him. I don’t care if we can’t fuck or go on dates. I want to have as much of him as I can, I just… freaked out when I realized it, okay?”

“This about yesterday?”

“Kinda,” he admits, finally spooning some of the soup into his mouth. It’s too hot. “I need to find someone to help me run the company.”

Tina pulls out a chair for herself, sitting sideways on it and crossing her ankles. “The assistant?”

“No, like… someone from management, train them to do my work. I’m thinking about Miller or Person.”

“Don’t make decisions when you’re in a crisis. Miller’s the marine, right? The one I met?”

“That one.” Gavin nods. “He’s a good guy.”

“Any good with management?”

“He is. Went to school for that kind of thing, he’s been running a lot of the operation for the past few years.” He smiles, eats another spoonful of soup, and inclines his head to the side. “I promise I won’t do shit while I’m hyped up.”

“Good. Eat your soup.”

Gavin falls asleep late that night, half-aware of Tina’s arm slung across his stomach. He gets only four hours of sleep and, likely because his brain sees fit to torture him with his newfound affections, all four of them are spent dreaming of Niles.

He considers it a success when he wakes up without panicking at the memory of the previous day. That means it was the surprise that knocked him off his feet, that he can cope with loving Niles from a safe distance. He escapes Tina’s embrace to shower and change, settles on the couch with his laptop, sends out the e-mails he can at such an early hour.

One of them has the purpose of scheduling an interview with the girl Elijah recommended to be his assistant. Chloe. There’s a picture of her in the resume his brother attached to the message, and Gavin scoffs because she’s just Elijah’s type – flawless skin, young, blonde, blue eyes. And their father thinks _he’s_ the sexual deviant.

Once work is out of the way, he checks his phone. It’s far too early for Niles to check up on him, so the only message he finds remotely relevant is one unread text from Tina telling him she was arriving the night before.

He’s about to fix himself breakfast when Tina comes down the stairs, hair already tied back in a bun.

“What do you want to eat?” she asks, making her way to the kitchen before he even closes his laptop. Gavin hurries to get off the couch and follow her.

“I can fix something up, don’t worry about it. Shouldn’t you sleep more?”

“I’m good.” Tina smiles, and Gavin can only lean against the counter as he watches her whip around the kitchen. She peels and mashes bananas, raids his jar of oats, covers the mixture in a few strings of honey and serves it in two bowls.

It’s another boring day after that. Gavin goes to work, suffers through meetings and staff reports, works out, goes home, sleeps, and repeats the same thing the next day. On Wednesday, he meets Chloe in his office at two and runs her through the basic questions: what are your strengths and weaknesses, what is your experience, what were your responsibilities as Mr. Kamski’s personal assistant, what do you expect from this new job?

She answers everything with his brother’s same unnerving composure and Gavin wonders if that’s something she picked up or if they’re simply that compatible. Either way, she seems qualified and competent, so Gavin decides to give her a trial period. They meet again on Thursday to discuss his scheduling system and duties within the company, when he also informs her of the absolute necessity of leaving Monday nights open unless an emergency comes up.

She’s set to start the following week.

He thinks Friday is going to be just another day at the office. It is, for two whole hours, and then movement beyond the glass partition of his office catches his eye. Traci claps her hands over her mouth, looks around with wide eyes, and then stands abruptly. She turns to him and Gavin frowns when he notices her usual professional demeanor is replaced by a tearful, joyful expression.

She looks apologetic for all of two seconds before rushing from her desk and pushing through the door that divides them.

“Mr. Reed, sir, I’m sorry to disturb you,” she says, rushed and not at all like her usual self. “Would it be acceptable for me to take an early lunch?”

“What happened? We have a meeting in an hour, I need you to receive the client.”

“Oh. Right.” She smiles again, this time reluctantly, and nods. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“What happened?” he repeats.

“The news- I can get married. I mean, ah, same-sex marriage was legalized throughout the country. I don’t have a plan, I just want to see my girlfriend, but I understand this is extremely unprofessional and I should not be making such a request-“

“Traci. Go.” Gavin motions to the door, allowing himself a calm smile. “You have two hours. Make them count.”

“Sir! Thank you!”

As she rushes out of the office, Gavin pulls up the news on his browser, surprised to find it’s true. It’s right on the first recommended article, a publication by the New York Times: Supreme Court Ruling Makes Same-Sex Marriage a Right Nationwide. It’s good news, but it feels removed from him, something that will never affect him directly. He knows Tina will be all over it, though.

He forwards the article to her, then returns to his work.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important note on the updating schedule, if we can call it that. I'm about to start at a new job. The only reason I was able to update so quickly was a lucky combination of being unemployed and inspired, so don't expect updates to come as quickly from here on out. That said, I will see this story to the end, this and its sister-stories which have yet to be published. Enjoy.

The sun filters through the blinds as Niles paws blindly for his cellphone, convinced this is the day he will change his ringtone. God, it’s an irritating sound. He swipes at the green answer button, sets it on speaker, and sinks back into his pillow with a groan.

“Niles!” Connor’s overexcited voice pierces him like a spear. Going out for cocktails on a Thursday night had not been a good idea. “Niles, are you up? Have you seen the news?”

“No, I’m not up,” Niles complains, slurring his words from the combination of exhaustion and a hangover. He wants to thank every god for the fact no client booked him for the day.

“Niles, I’m serious. Look at the news!”

“How about you tell me?” he asks, eyes closed as his mind slips back into dreamland. Just as he’s about to drift off, so near relief, Connor speaks again.

“The Supreme Court ruled in favor of Obergefell,” Connor replies, and Niles wonders if his brother thinks he understands that or he’s awake enough to recall what it’s about. At his confused grunt, Connor continues. “We’ve talked about this case.”

“Not engaging in lawyer talk at seven in the morning.”

“It’s eleven, Ni.” Connor sighs, probably frustrated with his inability to understand. “Gay marriage. It’s legal now, everywhere in the United States.”

“Great.” It comes off more sarcastic than Niles intends – it is great news, but he doesn’t see the purpose in being woken up to receive it. “I mean, that is amazing. It could have waited a few more hours, though.”

“Actually, Markus is planning a celebration. He wants to throw a party and you have to come.”

“No.”

“Niles, come on. We have reason to celebrate, the kids from Jericho will be there, everyone wants to see you,” Connor almost whines, and Niles forces himself to open his eyes and maintain some semblance of awareness. “Please.”

“I don’t know the kids from Jericho,” Niles reminds him. “I know North and the guys, that’s all. If it’s going to be crowded, I’m better off staying home.”

“North and I will miss you if you don’t go. Oh! Chloe will be there; don’t you want to meet her?”

“Con, I’m hungover,” Niles admits, his last attempt at defending himself from the idea of a party.

“Please?”

“Okay. Okay, text me the details. Don’t expect me to be anywhere before seven,” he concedes.

“Markus needs time to arrange last-minute catering and procure drinks, so I think we’ll start at eight. You have plenty of time. Drink water.”

“I know. I will.”

“See you later, then.”

Niles wastes no time closing his eyes, snuggling into his pillow and letting sleep take him away from the sensation of someone taking a baseball bat to his brain. He dreams of muscles and scars on tan skin, of sweet grey eyes looking up at him in submission.

When he wakes naturally, the conflicting sensations between his cottonmouth and morning wood feel less than pleasant. He takes the painkillers set out the night before, downs them with half a bottle of water, then goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a cold shower.

He considers running, but that would require another shower and there is a high possibility of worsening his headache, so he picks out dark jeans and a black tank top to wear around the house for the remainder of the afternoon.

It’s unusual for him to eat lunch so late – almost three o’clock already – and his abused taste buds, numbed by tequila, are not happy about it. He still forces himself to eat a full meal, a stir-fry of chicken and vegetables over a bed of seasoned rice.

At quarter past four, he receives a text from Connor confirming that the party will start at eight. At five, North threatens him with severe bodily harm should he fail to appear. He even receives an official invite to the event on Facebook, where stating whether he’ll attend or not serves no purpose, so he ignores it.

To pass the time, he watches pirated versions of old episodes of No Reservations, keeping water on hand to fight dehydration. By the time he has to leave for Markus’s, he is completely sober and the hangover is gone.

Niles considers dressing up for the event, but he wears a suit every day for work and every time he visits a fetish club, so the idea of going out in casual clothes is far more appealing. He adds a belt for show, since his pants are tailored and don’t need the help to stay up, and tucks his tank top into his jeans.

The party is at the Manfred mansion, not the apartment Markus shares with Simon. They could never fit this amount of people into the apartment, but spread around the house, the crowd doesn’t seem quite so overwhelming. Lance is at the door to receive guests, recognizing Niles and waving him inside with a smile.

The chandeliers are lit and there are people walking around with trays of appetizers and drinks. The doors to the living room are open, allowing full access to the non-utilitarian areas of the ground floor. Most guests are young adults, people who volunteer for Jericho or similar organizations, some of whom are only alive because of them. Niles doesn’t know any of their faces.

He makes his way through to the living room, where the gigantic giraffe still looks as odd as ever, and finds North sitting on the red couch with her arm around Chloe. He’s about to go to them when Markus sees him and waves him over.

“Niles! I am so glad you could come, you’re looking good,” he greets, all smiles as he tips his champagne glass and moves forward to clasp Niles’s shoulder. “What do you think?”

“Of course, Markus.” Niles glances around, then meets mismatched eyes with more warmth than usual. It’s not a bad party. “I am impressed you put this together in one day. How much did you pay for the catering?”

“More than you want to know,” Markus admits.

“Too much,” Simon adds, beaming at them. “Hi, Niles.”

“Simon.” Niles nods, surprised to see the blond man looking more jovial, lacking depth in the dark circles beneath his eyes. A closer inspection tells him he’s wearing makeup to conceal them. “I am thankful Connor convinced me to come, although I have yet to see him.”

“Connor is making out with Daniel in the kitchen,” Simon explains, clearly not surprised. “It’s been a while. They’ll either be done soon or find their way to one of the bedrooms.”

“Gross.” Niles scrunches up his nose, but it’s mostly for effect. “I thought Daniel was straight.”

“He fools around, I think he’s bi. I mostly don’t want to know.”

“I’m certain Connor will tell me all about it, he always does.” Niles takes a small appetizer from a passing tray – lychee filled with cream cheese – and pops it into his mouth.

“He does that to you, too?” Markus laughs and sips from his champagne, then hands it off to Simon, who does the same.

“Yes,” Niles admits, then finds a rare moment where he can be open with these two. He smiles. “You should have heard him the first time he got a blowjob.”

“God, that must have been either priceless or traumatizing.” Markus takes his glass back, leans over to kiss Simon on the cheek.

“Daniel and I never talked about sex. No, that’s a lie. There was one time when we were sixteen and he thought he’d gotten a girl pregnant, but that was the only time.”

“Con and I have always been open about it. I think it’s because our mother was so closed off about it, we didn’t have anyone else to ask or compare with.” Niles shrugs. “It’s a good thing, for the most part.”

“I wonder what it’s like, having a twin. Simon never gives me satisfying answers,” Markus complains, mostly playful, taking Simon’s hand in his and lacing their fingers together.

“That’s because there is no way to explain it. It’s not that different from you and Leo,” Simon explains, with a tone that tells Niles this is an old argument. “Not in the long run.”

“Leo and I don’t share a brain.”

“Markus,” Simon warns, poking him in the ribs.

“Sorry!” Markus smiles brightly, squeezes his hand and turns back to Niles. “Have you met Chloe yet?”

“No, I just came in. You’d think that after two months I would have met my best friend’s girlfriend.”

“Oh, we won’t keep you, then. There’s some time to kill until everyone else arrives, so go talk to them.”

Niles nods, slipping away and having his spot immediately taken by other guests who want to talk to their hosts. He dodges people and furniture until he’s standing in front of the couch, prompting Chloe to spring to her feet and offer her hand for him to shake.

“It is so nice to finally meet you,” she says, soft voice matching her kind face. Niles almost slips in a joke about her temperament in comparison to North’s, but he saves himself in time.

“I can say the same. North has told me quite a bit about you, you make her very happy.” Chloe beams at his comment and North rolls her eyes, embarrassed to have Niles address that so openly. “She is a lot to handle.”

“North? Oh, no, she’s a sweetheart. She’s tough, but deep down she’s a big softie.” Chloe looks down at where her girlfriend is still seated, legs crossed, and smiles as if she hadn’t made her face turn bright red.

“Stop that, both of you,” North warns, bristling when Chloe leans down to kiss her on the nose.

“Didn’t you want me to meet him?” Chloe asks, sitting back down and placing a hand on her girlfriend’s knee. “We’re making conversation.”

“Talk about anything else.”

“North, come on.” Niles smiles, kind and open. “You make a good couple, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” she protests, moving closer to Chloe to make room for him to sit. She motions to the spot beside her with her head, trying desperately to keep her face stoic. He sees right through that.

“Chloe,” he starts, taking the offered seat and leaning forward so he can look at both women to make conversation. “North said you work as a personal assistant, what is that like?”

“It’s hard work, but it pays off. My old boss, Mr. Kamski, had very high standards and an extremely busy schedule, so I learned a lot about time management and efficiency in the years I spent with him. He’s the one who recommended me for my current position. I’m not sure what the new boss is like yet, I’ve only met him twice, but he has a lot on his plate.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly do you do?”

“I take phone calls, write down notes and reminders, answer e-mails and other correspondence, organize schedules, book flights, make reservations at restaurants, and sometimes I have to deal with finances. That’s the bulk of the work, really, the rest of it can be narrowed down to coffee runs and standing in line so my boss doesn’t have to.”

“She has the patience of a saint. I could never do that,” North comments, seeming to relax as the conversation steers away from the overly personal. “Her new boss is the CEO of a bigshot company, I’m sure he’s going to sap all of her time off.”

“I still have set hours,” Chloe reminds her, tracing her kneecap with her thumb. “You won’t miss me that much.”

It’s surprisingly easy to carry a comfortable conversation with Chloe. She asks about his work, complains about North not telling her that much about the professional BDSM scene, and while she admits to being vanilla, her curiosity is genuine. He answers all her questions until they circle back to her relationship with North, where the women take turns detailing their first date with some diverging information.

He’s so focused that it takes a minute to register why everyone else is suddenly quiet, then he sees Markus standing on a box at the far end of the room. It’s amusing enough to capture his attention.

“Friends! Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I am sure more would be in attendance had we been sure of the ruling beforehand, but I appreciate everyone who was able to make it here.” Markus is still holding his champagne glass, newly filled, and he raises it for emphasis. “This is a historic day. I am sure all of you understand the importance of recognizing LGBT people as equal members of society, as many of you are actively involved in the community. Some may not see the appeal of marriage or understand the emphasis placed on this ruling when there are other, more pressing issues to address, but I would like to remind everyone that every step forward is a victory.”

Niles hears the people around them murmur in agreement, but all he can think _is there he goes again, making a speech_. By now, it’s a standard part of every event hosted by Markus or his family members.

“Marriage is such an integral part of our society, a multifaceted commitment that joins tradition, finances, and love in an unlikely balance that forms the core of modern families. Some people consider it to be nothing more than a piece of paper, but the rights granted to married couples now being extended to same-sex couples means we are now able to support our partners when they fall ill, to guarantee their stability should anything happen to us, to stand by their side at every turn. It’s not the end of our fight, but it is far from a worthless document.”

Markus smiles then, extending his free hand towards Simon and pulling him up to stand by his side. They share a quick, innocent peck of lips, and then he addresses the guests once more.

“Simon and I have been together for eight years. If we had the opportunity to share the experience with our friends and family, we would have been married in half that time. Now that we can legally officialize our union, I am proud to announce our engagement. All of you are invited to the ceremony, but as we have yet to set the date, please be patient with us.”

Simon raises his right hand, showing off a brilliant silver ring. That prompts cheers and applause, which Niles joins in on with the slow clap of his hands.

The couple is immediately flanked by people who want to congratulate them, so Niles decides to hang back and wait for the frenzy to die down before he does the same. North tells them about how Markus had always wanted a big wedding, but was willing to settle for eloping to Canada if the United States didn’t legalize their union by the ten-year mark. Niles is happy to witness this.

The crowd parts when Carl Manfred himself appears, wheeling towards them with a proud smile. Even Leo, who doesn’t usually see eye to eye with his brother, seems moved by the announcement.

It’s maybe half an hour after the speech that Connor walks in, looking immaculate with the exception of one strand of hair and the visible hickey on his neck. Niles rolls his eyes, excuses himself from North and Chloe’s company and goes to meet his brother.

“You call me to a party and then ditch me for some blond,” he complains, teasing.

“You were late. I was bored, Daniel was available.” Connor shrugs, purposefully not glancing at the door when Daniel enters. Niles recognizes it as a planned strategy to prevent people from noticing they were together. “Not my usual type, but he’s not bad.”

“Your usual type is filthy rich and twenty years older.”

“Ten,” Connor corrects him, not at all ashamed of his preferences. “I like older men, but I don’t want to think about them dying too soon. Fifty seems like a stretch.”

“Right, because you’re going to be with them until the end.” Niles arches an eyebrow.

“That’s beside the point.”

“I’m surprised you never tried to seduce Carl.”

“Who says I haven’t?” Connor grins, then shoves Niles’s shoulder when he frowns. “Kidding. I wouldn’t do that to Markus, he’d be a little freaked out if I started dating his father.”

“Thank God.”

Connor grabs them both glasses of champagne and they mingle, Niles suffering through introductions to some of his brother’s friends from Jericho and a brief conversation with John. He gets the chance to congratulate Markus and Simon and, after having been at the party for four hours, decides to make his way home.

He’s just finished his goodbyes when Carl wheels up beside him, wordlessly following him to the front door.

“Mr. Manfred, can I help you?” Niles asks, confused at the sudden company.

“I apologize. I was simply admiring the art on you; I have only ever seen you in long sleeves before.” Carl motions to his arms, covered in detailed realistic designs. “Your artists are incredibly skilled. Good choice.”

“Thank you. I don’t have the patience or time to be an artist myself, but I have always admired how much significance can be put into a drawing. There was a lot of thought in each of these.” Niles is proud to show off his tattoos, rotating his arms so Carl can take a good look at every detail. “I rarely show them, though, given my… line of work.”

“I can see that. Your left sleeve evokes strong emotions, it is a uniquely beautiful piece of work.” Carl’s face twists into a smile. “Something tells me your work attire is more of a personal choice.”

“Yes,” Niles admits. “Leather and exposure were never my style.”

“Of course. I am sorry for keeping you. I hope you enjoyed the party; Markus certainly appreciated your presence.”

“I did. Thank you for everything, Mr. Manfred.”

Niles drives home surprisingly content with his evening, having expected to feel regret the moment he accepted Connor’s invitation. In the end, he found himself having fun and growing comfortable in the presence of his brother’s friends.

He reheats some of his stir-fry for dinner, watches another episode of No Reservations, and goes to sleep satisfied.

To make up for staying in bed the previous morning, Niles doubles his run on Saturday. He feels inspired and energetic, so he bakes his own bread, eats a slice with butter while it’s still warm and pairs it with coffee and milk.

He has to deal with Connor going on about weddings for most of Sunday. He talks about what Markus and Simon have planned, what North and Chloe might do if they ever get married – a very premature assumption, given how recent the relationship is – and Connor’s own dream ceremony. Niles doubts his brother will ever settle down, much like himself, but he doesn’t voice that thought.

After that, it’s back to a full week of clients. Summer tends to see a lull in regulars, most of whom take time off to travel, but there are always one-timers and new clients to make up for those missing slots. Niles is glad to go the entire week without experiencing a drop, but he still feels like something is wrong, missing.

That feeling goes away on Monday, six o’clock. He doesn’t connect the dots, doesn’t dwell on it long enough to even consider his growing affections, but the sight of Gavin Reed sets his mind straight. The sight of Gavin Reed strung up and covered in bruises after their previous session’s experimental turn is deeply gratifying.

Their return to impact play means the return of their daily communication. Gavin sends him pictures and he replies with praise, and they occasionally trade messages that have nothing to do with work. Gavin even texts him a picture of himself in bed, sticking his tongue out in challenge. Niles feels warm and comfortable when talking to him. He doesn’t think about it.

As time passes and they grow closer, Niles feels more comfortable pushing Gavin’s buttons. He incorporates more sexual aspects – pushes his fingers in Gavin’s mouth, stimulates his nipples with hands, clamps and pumps, orders him to touch himself. They talk about the things they want to do, and Gavin is the first to bring up the toy worship mentioned in his file. Niles smiles and promises to plan something with that scenario, ever grateful for the creative freedom he’s granted.

Niles is so comfortable he can’t even find the energy to envy Connor and his endless pictures of the clear waters of the Maldives. He misses his brother for the two weeks he’s gone, but Connor seems happy and that’s more than enough.

August comes faster than anticipated. Niles announces the trip on his website, adds it to the public calendar, opens slots for sessions with him in a dungeon in Los Angeles while he’s there for BoundCon. The convention itself only lasts three days, but Niles would rather not be rushed from the event to the airplane, so he plans to extend his stay by a week and earn some money from the local scene. He has the name for it.

To his submissives in Detroit, he sends out a mass text informing them of his leave and the date of his return. Many of them, including Gavin, reach out to schedule their next session to make up for the lost week. Niles fits them in, smiling as he writes down Gavin’s name on his calendar for Monday, six o’clock. It will be strange to go three weeks without seeing the man.

He flies to California on the night of August 13th, reads through the last quarter of Shantaram on the plane, takes a cab to his hotel and falls asleep almost immediately after dinner. He has an early morning Friday, meeting with the organizers before the convention even starts and then heading to the venue.

He doesn’t have any set plans for the first day, so he explores the booths where various vendors are showing their products, from sex toys to clothing. Though his plan isn’t to purchase anything, he leaves with two new play collars and a novelty chastity belt. Once there are no more vendors to browse, he sits in on a few workshops and discussions, but returns to the hotel to rest before the play party begins.

At the play party, he mostly engages with other dominants, talks to them about their practice while various submissives serve them. One man approaches him with the offer to be his footrest for the night and Niles simply can’t refuse, so he sits back and places his boots on the man’s back, sipping whiskey as he trades experiences with a green-haired dominatrix with geometric tattoos on the shaved half of her head.

He arrives a few hours after the start of the event on Saturday. He’s part of a group discussion on the portrayal of kink in mainstream pornography, offering his insights both as a former actor and as a sex educator. Near the end of the day, he gives a workshop on proper rope bondage techniques, demonstrating on a willing submissive as he explains the different types of rope that may be used, the safety measures, the signs to watch out for.

At the play party that night, he meets a green-eyed man named Gabriel. They plan and engage in a scene, which somehow escalates beyond the event as Niles takes him back to his hotel room. He hasn’t necessarily abstained from sex in the past few months, but it has still been some time, so the experience is deeply satisfying. They part with a kiss after sharing a second round in the shower.

On Sunday, he’s part of a discussion about the importance of aftercare. He ends up shopping around again after that, purchasing a leather harness for himself and a joke present for Connor he’s sure his twin will love unironically. It’s a black tank top illustrated by a cream donut with pink icing, leaking from where it was bitten, the words “cream filled” framing it in pink, rounded letters.

He calls it a night before the play party even starts, already pleased with the event. He’s scheduled a scene for Monday afternoon at a public dungeon, so he needs the rest.

Niles spends his free hours exploring the city, eating in restaurants instead of relying on room service, running in the parks to keep up the habit. He has scenes every day except Friday, when he flies home, and during that time he ends up engaging sexually with another submissive outside of work.

Con crash only hits him when jetlag does. He’s been active and engaged the entire week, so there was no time to recover from the rush of the convention. He spends Saturday watching Anthony Bourdain travel the world and is only woken up on Sunday when Connor jumps into bed, landing on top of him.

“Niles!”

“God, you are horrible,” Niles complains, rolling over as he pushes Connor to the side. “I was sleeping!”

“I missed you, don’t be an ass. How was the convention?”

“Great. Maldives?”

“Beautiful, breathtaking, I want to go back. Did you get any ass?”

“Connor!”

“Come on, spill. I slept with some hot guys while I was on vacation.”

“I wasn’t on vacation, I was working,” Niles reminds him.

“So was I, technically, that didn’t stop me.” Connor grins and Niles covers his eyes to shield himself from the brightness of his smile.

“Yes, I slept with some people,” he concedes, waving one hand in the direction of his still packed suitcase. “Present for you wrapped in plastic on top of my clothes.”

“Oh!” Connor immediately moves off the bed, opening the zipper on the suitcase with more force than strictly necessary. Niles only sighs. “This one in the plastic?”

“Yes.” He uncovers his eyes and rolls over on his side, watching as his twin pulls the shirt out from the bag to unfold and inspect it.

“Niles, this is amazing,” Connor laughs, looking between the design and Niles’s face. “Is this even appropriate to wear?”

“It’s more appropriate than the one you wore to the mall with me last summer. What was that, _my safeword is ‘harder’_?”

“Yeah, I like that one. This might be my favorite, though. No one will notice if I wear it under the tracksuit, and I might- oh, yes, he’ll like it.”

“He?” Niles asks, curious.

“Oh, no one important. Don’t worry about it.”

Sighing, Niles decides not to press. He stretches slowly as he rises, rubs his eyes with the ball of his hands, and makes his way downstairs to prepare coffee and toast.

It’s refreshing to spend the day with Connor, even if he’s too energetic for someone returning from an international trip. They go through all of Connor’s pictures from the Maldives and he details everything he did, everything he ate, even the texture of the seawater, which is not something Niles thought would vary from place to place.

Niles, in turn, tells him about the convention and the people he met, shows him the other items he bought there, and then shoves him away with his foot when Connor tries to tickle him to get information about the people he slept with.

All through the day, he feels his excitement building. He attributes it to being home again, to getting back into his routine after a considerable disruption, but part of him knows it’s because he misses Gavin.

That’s what gives him a burst of energy on Monday. He’s up bright and early, adds some push-ups to his exercise routine after coming home from a long run, then hits the farmer’s market to buy fresh fruit. He finds beautiful ripe oranges and apples, pairs them with walnuts for a touch of the savory and bitter flavor they bring, deciding on that combination for Gavin’s aftercare.

He makes it to the studio a few hours early to prepare. His toys are clean, but he still sterilizes what he plans to use for their scene as extra precaution. He wraps the supplies in a clean towel to hide them from view, setting the bundle on the bondage bed alongside a long, metal spreader bar.

At three minutes to six, he opens the door for Gavin and feels warmth fill his chest when their eyes meet. Slowly, alongside the excitement and the joy, a deep-seated anxiety starts forming knots in his stomach. He ignores it.

They go through their usual ritual of drinking water and asking about specific desires for the day before reciting the safewords to start the scene. Niles is immersing himself in the proper headspace, almost at the ideal level of focus when his gaze lands on Gavin’s naked body.

There are bruises on his hips and hickeys on his thighs. Mostly faded, barely there, but still identifiable. Niles reminds himself Gavin is only a client, but stops cold when he circles around and sees Gavin’s back. There are burns there, some only marked by redness, others raised and irritated.

“Gavin, what is this?” he asks, kicking himself for his phrasing but unable to soften his meaning. Gavin had been with another person, that was expected, with another dom, that was acceptable, with someone who hurt him beyond what was safe, which was absolutely inadmissible.

“I- shit, Niles, I can explain,” Gavin looked at him with panicked eyes, perhaps having expected him to bush over the injuries without noticing how bad they were.

“Put your clothes back on, and we’ll talk.”

Gavin obeys without question and Niles watches him compose himself, frown still firm on his face as he battles disappointment, worry and what he wants to deny is jealousy.

“Sit.”

They sit side by side on the bed, Gavin’s hands between his knees as he stares at the floor. Niles feels the urge to reach out and hold him, but he knows better.

“Tell me why you’re burned. Was it consensual?”

“Uh. Not really,” Gavin admits, swallowing nervously. He closes his eyes before he speaks again. “I was getting restless after the two-week mark. Got used to it or some shit. I figured I could just find someone else to tide me over, so I went to a club and met this guy… Matt, I think. He seemed nice enough, we talked about the kinky shit we’re into, he agreed to beat me up if I let him fuck me. Figured it was a win-win situation.”

Niles flexes his fingers where they rest on his thigh, keeping a calm exterior to counter the anger building in his core.

“He had his own place, like a mini-dungeon, so we went there. He tied me up, whipped me a bit, got me off. It was fine until he asked if we could play with candles and- that shit is kinda scary, you know? I wasn’t comfortable but I didn’t want to disappoint, so I said yes. It hurt like a bitch. I looked it up when I got home, turns out some candles burn too high to be used for these things, and I think he had the wrong kind.”

“Did you safeword?” Niles asks, and his stomach sinks when Gavin nods, looking vulnerable as his teeth dig into his lower lip. “Did he stop?” he asks as a follow-up, and Gavin shakes his head.

“Maybe he didn’t hear me,” Gavin suggests, though his tone of voice makes it clear he doesn’t believe himself. “He took care of me after. Apologized, held me, was all… cutesy, but I just wanted to get the fuck out. I just wanted to see you again.”

The admission shatters what’s left of Niles’s heart. Gavin looks at him then, small and hurt, and Niles wraps his arms around him and pulls him in close.

“Gavin, no,” he says, struggling to find the right words as he rests his chin on the top of Gavin’s head. “He violated you. He hurt you. That’s not something you should accept or make excuses for.”

“I thought I was over that shit,” Gavin’s voice cracks as he says it. “I thought I was a good sub. I thought I learned from you. I-“

“Breathe. Count your breaths.” Niles feels Gavin nod and senses the change in his breathing as it turns deep and slow. “You are not to blame for what happened. Abusive people prey on the vulnerable, it is not your fault.”

He expects Gavin to break down, but what he gets is quiet sadness instead of panic. There’s something resigned about the way Gavin accepts what happened to him, like an addict who relapses. Niles doesn’t want to think about his abuse in that way.

“We can’t do a scene like this. I need you to be healed and in the right mindset. Go home today, we’ll talk further and decide how to handle the situation going forward.”

Niles doesn’t mean for him to leave immediately, but Gavin seems to take it that way. He escapes the embrace, mutters some apologies and is out the door before Niles can find the right words to make him stay.

As he sits there, alone in the dungeon, overwhelmed by anger and concern, he realizes he’s fallen in love. It crashes into him like a cold wave, sapping all the warmth from his skin and twisting his insides painfully.

Niles refuses to panic. He accepts his feelings, tries to identify when his affections turned romantic and berates himself for not noticing sooner. He’s spent so much time thinking about Gavin, missing him between their scenes, dreaming of his eyes and his touch, and not once did it occur to him that it could be more than lust.

The realization comes with a difficult choice. He can break his personal and professional code, violating his ethics, allowing Gavin to continue as his submissive in a professional capacity; he can attempt to form a mutually beneficial romantic bond by terminating their transactions and inviting Gavin on a date; he can do the right thing and cut all contact with Gavin before it becomes a problem.

Niles puts everything away in absolute silence, packs the fruit to take home, and wonders if he should tell anyone. His heart feels like an exposed wound, burning hot and cold at the same time, more painful than he could ever imagine. He makes his decision.

The next morning, he texts Gavin the same way he always does after a scene. He has to make sure he’s safe. The vague confirmation message he receives in return is proof this will not work.

Niles keeps their communication open long enough to ensure Gavin heals and takes care of himself, that he knows not to blame himself for being hurt. It’s only when he’s sure the other man is physically and emotionally stable enough to handle change that he sends the final message.

_It is in our best interest to terminate our working relationship. I believe you have grown and learned from me and will be able to choose wisely when it comes to your future dominants. If you wish to continue your sessions with a professional, I will gladly recommend colleagues I know are skilled and respectful. Thank you for the time we had together, I apologize if this message is unexpected._

He doesn’t know what he expects in return. He gets nothing. Days go by without a word from Gavin: not a text, not a call, no sign of life. Niles chooses to accept that as something positive, although he’s irrationally hurt that Gavin wouldn’t try to fight for what they had. He reminds himself over and over that what they had was nothing.

The first week is rough. He’s not as motivated to get through his days, it’s harder to enter the right headspace at work. He takes more pleasure from pain and fear play than usual, twists his own pain into sadism to pretend he can cope with it. At night, he stares at the dark ceiling with burning eyes and refuses to cry.

Connor notices. Niles lies and says he’s suffering a bad drop, tucks himself into Connor’s side as they watch MasterChef and tries to forgive himself for deceiving his brother.

The second week is worse. There’s that expectation in the back of his mind that he’ll see Gavin at the end of a two-week period, and no amount of rationalizing the situation can make it go away.

He pays for a gym membership, which he puts to good use on the days he has less strenuous scenes. He goes out drinking with North and Chloe at the end of the week, feels guilt rise as bile in his throat when his happiness for them turns to bitterness over his own heartbreak, hides all of it behind his drink.

One time, he finds a man attractive enough to consider taking home. He’s muscular and short and has light eyes – blue, not gray, and his face is unmarred. That’s what turns Niles away, the wrongness of perceived perfection. When he relieves himself with his hand, all he feels is shame.

He thinks he’s doing a good job of keeping his misery under wraps until he comes home to find North, Connor, Markus and Simon sitting on his couch. The hilarity of being the target of an intervention doesn’t escape him, he simply doesn’t allow the laughter to manifest physically.

“We’re worried about you,” Connor starts, motioning for the empty space they saved for him. “Come talk to us.”

“I don’t want to talk, Con.” Niles allows his façade to drop, facing them with sad eyes and a tired smile. “I want to be left alone.”

“You are alone. You’re isolating yourself more than usual, you’ve been depressed and you won’t tell us what happened.” North is the one speaking now, in that kind but forceful tone one can’t help but listen to. Niles doesn’t deny any of her claims. “Let us help.”

“Niles,” Markus speaks up, and Niles grits his teeth. Part of him loves Markus from a distance, the way all of them do, but he can’t stand to be the object of his pity. “Our friendship comes free of judgement. Trust us with your burden, we can try to make it lighter.”

“Please?” Connor asks, and that’s what breaks him.

Niles exhales unsteadily, takes his place on the couch and nods. He thinks back to the first time he wanted to kiss Gavin, to every time he held him close, every time their eyes met in complete trust. He had violated that trust.

“I fell in love.” All eyes are focused on him and he’s sure North chokes on her own spit. He can’t blame her, it’s not something he ever expected from himself. “He was my submissive in a professional setting and I allowed myself to engage with him, in denial of my personal affections, taking advantage of the trust he placed in me and pushing past the conditions of our arrangement. I was not aware of this at the time, probably because I don’t think I ever loved someone this way. It took me a long time to recognize it. Once I did, I cut all ties with him. It has been… difficult, adapting to life without him in my routine.”

“Ni,” Connor breathes, surprise evident in his voice as it is in his warm brown eyes. He wraps an arm around Niles’s shoulders and presses his forehead to his brother’s temple. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’m here for you, I’m always here for you.”

“I couldn’t,” Niles admits, smiling sadly. “I didn’t know how.”

“Hey.” North calls his attention, her face set with firm determination. “You did not take advantage of him. If you weren’t aware of your own feelings, you can’t have exploited him as you claim to have done.”

“North-”

“Did you ignore him when he safeworded?”

“No.”

“Did you refuse to end scenes when you noticed he was past the point of consent and unable to safeword?”

“No.”

“Did you have sex with him?”

“No.”

“How, then, did you take advantage of him?”

Niles shakes his head, leaning back against Connor. He doesn’t know how to answer her question, but even the reassurance that he didn’t push Gavin into anything unwillingly isn’t enough to console him.

“You’re a good dom. You’re a good man. If you had to cut ties with him when you told him how you felt, if he thought that violated his trust in any way, that’s not on you.”

Without looking, Niles seeks out his brother’s hand and grasps it in his own. He doesn’t look at North but his silence tells her more than he intends to.

“Niles,” she continues, her tone dropping to a warning. “You did tell him, didn’t you?”

“No,” he admits, the word feeling worn from overuse. “It’s better this way.”

“You can’t make that decision for both of you!”

“North, please.” Markus places a placating hand on her arm. “What she means to say is that your feelings may not be unrequited. If nothing else, he remained your submissive long enough for you to develop these affections, so I imagine he is attracted to you. You can work with that, ask him on a date, give it a chance.”

“That would be unprofessional. He came to me for a very specific service, free of sexual or emotional weight, and I was unable to uphold my end of the deal. Not only that, it has been weeks since our contact was terminated, he has likely moved on and found a new dominant.”

“If I may,” Simon finally speaks, locking eyes with Markus before turning his attention back to Niles. “I think North is right. It takes two people for a relationship to work; you can’t decide it doesn’t work if you leave one party in the dark. You should talk to him, tell him how you feel. If he feels violated or if he rejects you, then you move on, but don’t abandon your love because you think you made a mistake. If you really did something wrong, say sorry, hope he forgives you.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is.” Connor squeezes his shoulder. “The four of us have a better grasp on romance than you ever could, even you have to admit that. I romance people for a living and the other three are in healthy, committed relationships, you… haven’t been in one of those for years. Why won’t you listen to us?”

“Con, I can’t do this right now. I just can’t.” Niles pushes himself up, stumbles towards the stairs. “Sorry,” he says, waving dismissively in their direction before going to hide away in his bedroom. For the first time in ten years, as he burrows under the blankets and holds a pillow to his chest, tears roll down his cheeks.


	7. Alpha Omega

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter turned out shorter, there was only so many ways I could detail Gavin's misery. I hope you're not disappointed that this isn't what you expected. Warning for dubcon and mild violence below.

Gavin knows he’s lucky to have Niles in his life. Even though the connection in their encounters is an act, it soothes his longing for acceptance and validation. Niles weaves words together to take his breath away, touches him with care and reverence, looks at him as if he were the center of the universe. It’s more than he could ever hope for.

It’s not enough. Gavin thinks it is, at first; he’s content to be Niles’s submissive and nothing more. His confidence is growing with each session, the idea that his image pleases Niles becoming ingrained in him, deep enough for him to accept when Niles asks him to perform for him.

He’s kneeling on the bondage bed, back and ass bright red from a hard flogging, lower lip bruised from where it was pinched between Niles’s fingers. His dominant stands in front of him, holding a riding crop in his right hand. He uses it to position Gavin, slapping it lightly against his knees for him to spread them wider, running the tongue up his neck for him to lift his head.

“Are you in pain?” Niles asks, cold because that’s the part he’s playing today.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you enjoy it?” he continues, tracing the crop’s tongue down Gavin’s chest. If he weren’t so deep in subspace, Gavin would quip at him about how obvious his arousal is.

“Yes, sir,” he says instead, eyes fixed on Niles.

“Are you hard?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will let you relieve yourself on the condition you do so silently.” Niles twists his lips into a smirk, smacks the tongue of the riding crop against Gavin’s cheek – not hard enough to hurt, just a warning of what’s to come. “Go on.”

Gavin bites his lip to prevent a whimper from escaping as his hand finally wraps around his erection. He gives it a few dry tugs, looking up in fear when a shaky breath comes out louder than expected, but Niles is still watching him impassively.

“Permission to speak, sir?” he asks, rolling his hips forward into his hand, eyelashes fluttering at the stimulation.

“Go on.”

“I could use something- lube would be good. Please, sir,” he adds, quickly slamming his mouth shut when a groan threatens to escape.

Niles hums in consideration, taps his cheek with the leather one more time, then steps away to retrieve a bottle of lubricant.

“Hold out your hand.”

Gavin obeys immediately, swallowing thickly at the sudden loss of contact. He allows the lubricant to warm in his hand after Niles pours it, then wraps his fingers around his shaft and strokes himself with long, fluid movements.

He closes his eyes and focuses his breathing, but is snapped out of it when the tongue of the riding crop comes down on his chest.

“Eyes on me,” Niles orders.

“Yes, sir.” Gavin’s lips part of their own accord, air coming out in short exhales as he builds up his rhythm. He stops to thumb at the head, pressing down on the glans. His hips rock forward once more and an involuntary moan slips from his throat.

Niles twists up his nose and brings the riding crop down hard, and Gavin has to bite his tongue to prevent a vocal reaction to that. He almost closes his eyes, almost slips up again, but Niles is looking at him with enough intensity that Gavin knows he’ll regret it if he does.

He brings himself to climax that way, eyes locked with Niles’s own, hips stuttering forward into his fist. His orgasm hits harder than expected and draws a long groan from him, for which he is swiftly punished.

Niles allows him to clean up with a towel before they move to the bed, Gavin curled up on his dominant’s lap, feeling safe and adored with each word of praise he receives.

“You did so well today,” Niles says, voice soft and warm, a complete change from his character for the scene. “You didn’t mouth off; you followed every order. You are growing into the perfect submissive.”

They follow their usual aftercare routine from there: lotion, a few minutes of sleep, fresh fruit and plenty of water. Gavin doesn’t remember ever feeling this happy.

Things are, by definition, too good to be true. He realizes that two weeks later, when he starts to grow restless again. His anxiety escalates, his insomnia strikes back, and even Chloe can’t save him from the paperwork he’s burdened with. Niles is off in California, unable to make their usual session, and Gavin is left with a gaping hole in his routine.

He handles himself well at first, takes out his frustrations on targets when he has a gun handy, on Tina when he hits the dojo. He even ends up challenging Allen to a speed run through their obstacle course, which he loses by thirteen seconds.

It’s near the end of the third week that missing Niles becomes unbearable. They haven’t shared texts in nearly seven days and he does not want to give away his feelings or appear needy, so he refrains from contacting him without cause. Instead, he decides to take his chances at one of the fetish clubs he used to frequent before Niles, convinced he knows enough now to choose a good, competent dominant.

Matt seems to be that person. He’s soft and understanding as they discuss their limits, respectful of Gavin’s choice not to consume alcohol when offered a drink, and one of his submissives is present to vouch for his competence. There are no red flags and Gavin desperately needs a maintenance beating, so he goes home with Matt.

The sex is great. He comes twice after he’s bound, once from Matt’s hand and the second time when Matt fucks him into the mattress. The impact play is not half bad, though Matt doesn’t know his body quite as well as Niles does, and Gavin is left with a pleasant soreness radiating from his upper back.

Then, only then, the red flags show up. Matt leans over him, presses sweet kisses to his neck and asks if he’s willing to indulge in something different. He promises not to hurt him too much, makes the idea of wax play sound enticing, and maybe Gavin’s too fucked out to really protest.

He doesn’t expect it to burn that bad. After the first pour of wax onto his back, he whimpers and strains against the ropes, but pushes himself to hold on a little longer. The second pour burns even more. He’s not sure when he manages to say it, but he hears the word _unsat_ slip from his lips once, twice, three times.

Gavin’s not sure when Matt stops, but it’s not when he asks him to. He comes to when the dried wax is being peeled away from his stinging back and his entire body goes tense.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m sorry. This was too much for you, wasn’t it?” Matt doesn’t sound angry or forceful, he speaks with a gentle calm that soothes Gavin’s worries and he wonders if he’s overreacting as his heart pounds against his ribcage.

There are more words of comfort, apologies, and Matt holds him close. Gavin feels overwhelmed and displaced, feels like he’s doing something wrong. He can’t get the thought of Niles out of his head, the disappointment his dominant would feel upon finding out Gavin hurt himself again, fell back into his old habits after their schedule was disrupted by only a few days.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t tell Niles right away. That’s definitely why he doesn’t tell Tina, hides from her all weekend with the excuse of being overworked. In the shower, he scrubs at his raw back to get the remainder of the wax out, worsening the bite of the burns with each pass of the sponge. He tries to rub away the bruises, too, particularly the finger imprints on his hips. They feel dirty. He doesn’t want to see them anymore.

Despite the summer heat, he sleeps fully clothed. His thighs rub together when he turns on his side and they remind him of the marks sucked into them, he wants to cut them out if that’s what it takes for them to disappear.

He's not sure what he expects Niles to do on Monday. All he knows is that he’s happy to see the man again, to be met by kind gray eyes and a barely-there smile that warms his heart. Gavin feels happy until the moment he’s ordered to strip.

He’s self-conscious as he lifts his shirt, anxious as he drops his pants. The marks aren’t as visible anymore, but he knows Niles has a trained eye, he’ll notice them. There’s a flash of something dark when Niles takes in his front, but it’s nothing quite as bad as the question that follows him noticing the damage to his back.

“Gavin, what is this?” There it is. The cold tone, the disappointment. Gavin grows small in front of him, all his muscles and military bravado peeling away to reveal a scared creature standing alone, awaiting judgement.

Niles walks back around to his front and Gavin’s eyes widen, panicked as he stumbles over his words.

“I- shit, Niles, I can explain,” he tries, desperate to make things better so Niles won’t look at him like _that_. He wants to cover himself, to shrink away and disappear, pretend he’s someone who takes care of himself and not an emotional mess.

“Put your clothes back on, and we’ll talk.”

It’s like someone reached into Gavin’s chest and squeezed their hand around his heart. He complies without another word, hurries back into his clothing as if it would erase Niles’s memory of his mistakes. If only Gavin could be so lucky.

“Sit,” he orders, motioning for Gavin to join him on the bed. He does.

Gavin places his hands on his knees, looks from Niles to the floor and feels his lungs constricting painfully as the threat of a panic attack looms over him. He’s spent most of his time avoiding thoughts about Matt or what happened between them, too scared to face his truth, and now he’s being forced to do just that.

“Tell me why you’re burned. Was it consensual?”

Was it? Gavin remembers agreeing to it, but he’s also well aware of the fact he safeworded during the scene. Saying it is harder than thinking it, though.

“Uh. Not really,” he admits, swallowing nervously. _No_ is too definitive. His lips feel dry and chapped. Closing his eyes, he forces himself to explain the situation. “I was getting restless after the two-week mark. Got used to it or some shit. I figured I could just find someone else to tide me over, so I went to a club and met this guy… Matt, I think. He seemed nice enough, we talked about the kinky shit we’re into, he agreed to beat me up if I let him fuck me. Figured it was a win-win situation.”

Here's where Gavin would usually laugh at his own situation, miserable as it may be. This time, he can’t find the strength or will to do so. Niles is listening intently, his eyes dark and dangerous.

“He had his own place, like a mini-dungeon, so we went there. He tied me up, whipped me a bit, got me off. It was fine until he asked if we could play with candles and- that shit is kinda scary, you know? I wasn’t comfortable but I didn’t want to disappoint, so I said yes. It hurt like a bitch. I looked it up when I got home, turns out some candles burn too high to be used for these things, and I think he had the wrong kind.”

“Did you safeword?” Niles asks, his voice softer than before. Gavin bites his lip, refuses to look at him as he nods. “Did he stop?” he asks now, but it seems he knows the answer before Gavin confirms it with a shake of his head.

Gavin desperately wants to make it seem like an accident. He’s a soldier, a fighter, not a victim. He wants to believe he knows better than to allow someone to thrust past his limits, so he offers a flimsy excuse with a shaky voice.

“Maybe he didn’t hear me,” he suggests. “He took care of me after. Apologized, held me, was all… cutesy, but I just wanted to get the fuck out. I just wanted to see you again,” Gavin admits, the last part coming out before he can stop himself. He has to look at Niles then, has to see what he’s feeling.

Relief washes over him when Niles embraces him, warm and safe and everything he missed. His dominant seems more concerned than angry and Gavin allows himself to hope they’re going to be okay. They have to be okay.

“Gavin, no,” Niles says, open and hurt. Gavin doesn’t know how to handle the crackle of emotion in Niles’s voice, the depth of his pain in the face of Gavin’s own suffering. He can’t hold himself upright, falling completely into Niles’s arms. “He violated you. He hurt you. That’s not something you should accept or make excuses for.”

Gavin knows it’s true. He knows it’s true and his breathing picks up, becoming faster and more unsteady. He tries to speak again and his voice cracks around the admissions he knows he shouldn’t be voicing. “I thought I was over that shit. I thought I was a good sub. I thought I learned from you. I-“

“Breathe. Count your breaths,” Niles instructs, by now well aware of Gavin’s emotional struggles. There’s so much Tina in the way he says it, too, Gavin feels an immediate stab of guilt at hiding this from his friend. He nods, forces himself to breathe slowly, shuts his eyes tightly as Niles continues to speak. “You are not to blame for what happened. Abusive people prey on the vulnerable, it is not your fault.”

There is nothing he can say to that. He is vulnerable, weak, exposed. The shadow of what he once was. Gavin rests against Niles’s chest, allows himself to be held in silence until the threat of panic passes and all he’s left with is the guilt for every bad decision he made over the last week.

“We can’t do a scene like this. I need you to be healed and in the right mindset. Go home today, we’ll talk further and decide how to handle the situation going forward.”

Gavin chooses to take that as a good sign. He convinces himself Niles isn’t angry about what he did, tries to cope by himself over the following days and finds everything easier to bear when he wakes up bruise-free and with supportive messages from Niles on his phone. Everything goes perfectly well, too well, until he suggests setting the date for their next scene.

_It is in our best interest to terminate our working relationship. I believe you have grown and learned from me and will be able to choose wisely when it comes to your future dominants. If you wish to continue your sessions with a professional, I will gladly recommend colleagues I know are skilled and respectful. Thank you for the time we had together, I apologize if this message is unexpected._

Gavin reads the text at least five times, scanning it for any clue as to why Niles suddenly shifted from warm and supportive to distant, formal and _ending things with him_. Gavin knows he has no right to feel this way, that their relationship is purely business despite the intimacies that come with it, but the message stings like a breakup text. A cold, heartless breakup text.

He can’t bring himself to react. He screenshots the message and sends the image to Tina with no comment attached because he can feel himself slipping away, beyond the realm of stability he’s grown so used to in recent months. She messages him fifteen times and all of them go unread, so Gavin isn’t surprised when she shows up at his house.

Sitting together on his bed, legs crossed and feet tucked under their knees, they talk. Gavin has a distant gaze, looking past Tina because he’s unable to focus on her worried face without feeling his insides constricting from the weight of his remorse.

“Niles had a convention in California. Standard stuff, people actively involved in BDSM do that shit all the time, it helps keep the community educated and safe.” The explanation means he’s stalling, he could easily have said Niles left the state and left it at that. “He had a workshop or whatever. I, uh, thought I could deal with it. I’ve gone months without a scene, I could handle three fucking weeks.”

“None of this explains why he doesn’t want to see you anymore,” Tina points out.

“I’m getting to it.” Gavin isn’t anxious. He isn’t panicking. He’s distant, dazed, so removed from his own emotions it’s almost easy to tell this story. “Remember the night I went to the club? I met a guy. We fucked at his place and I… I don’t know, I was out of it, so I let him pour candle wax on my back. Was supposed to feel good, people really like that shit. It burned like hell, though, and I- I safeworded. He didn’t stop.”

“Gavin-“

“I know you’re gonna say I’m an idiot for letting a stranger do that shit and that it’s my fault I fucked everything up, but don’t. Don’t.”

“Gavin, I would never.” Tina places a careful hand on his knee, looks at him with bright eyes full of worry and support. “You were out of it, right? Were you in the condition to consent at all?”

“No.” There it is. His final admission. It breaks some of the numbness he feels, makes his eyes sting with tears that won’t fall because he refuses to cry over Matt.

“I can’t blame you for that. No one can. He was an asshole and he forced it on you, and you should never have to go through that shit. Not now, not in the past, not ever again. Are you telling me Niles ended things because you fucked someone else?”

“No! No, it’s not that. It’s because I promised him I’d take care of myself and know my limits and I should have known in this instance. I should have said no.”

“You were tied up, right?”

“Yeah, but-“

“Do you think this guy would have given a shit about your consent if he ignored your safeword?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Gavin, you’re lying to yourself.” Those words cut deep. Gavin feels like she’s right, he can imagine Matt’s fiery passion turning to cold flame, can think of a dozen ways things might have gone worse if he had dared to say no. “None of this was your fault and Niles is a fucking asshole if he dumped you for it.”

“He didn’t dump me, we weren’t together.” That’s not what it feels like. Tina knows, Gavin knows she knows. His words are just for show, or maybe they’re a reminder to himself, a reminder that he fell in love with a lie. “It’s because I disappointed him. I guess he doesn’t want to deal with my fuck-ups, and I don’t blame him.”

“I do. It was a dick move and it just proves he was too good to be true.” Tina frowns, squeezes his knee and moves forward to wrap him in her arms. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

“Don’t be.” Gavin moves his hands up her sides, cups the lower half of her ribcage and hides his face in her shoulder. “He was good to me. I’m not going to fuck up again. I’m going… I’m going to make him proud, even if he can’t see me.”

“Oh, Gav.” Tina doesn’t try to tell him his motivation is flawed because she knows it’s the only way he’ll keep himself out of trouble. Instead, she holds him. She holds him through his sadness, through the nightmares and the flashbacks and the screaming that return in full force, revived by his new wounds.

Over the next few days, they talk more about the subject. When she curses out Niles, accusing him of being cruel and unfair, Gavin jumps to his defense. He’s hurt, but even as time passes he can see the logic in Niles’s decision – Gavin promised to engage in healthy, consensual BDSM, not let any stranger at a club take advantage of him. Tina can’t seem to understand that, she insists doesn’t blame him for Matt.

He knows he can’t put himself out there again. Going to another professional dominant seems wrong, like he’s cheating on Niles even though they were never in a relationship, but finding casual partners is completely out of the question. Instead, Gavin dives into his work, postpones the plan to lay more responsibility on Chris Miller’s shoulders in favor of taking on those tasks himself.

He pushes for harder workouts, more challenges, balances every meal, monitors his fluid intake with an app. He micromanages everything that goes into his body, using absolute control as a replacement for the release of complete helplessness.

On the other hand, his grooming habits suffer. There’s too much work involved in picking up the electric razor, booking an appointment to wax, going through all that trouble for no one to benefit from it. Tina’s the first to comment on the scruff of his beard growing longer than usual. She notices because she’s staying at his house now, the same way she did in Iraq and again when he came home from the war.

“This is getting a little out of hand, isn’t it?” she jokes as she strokes his growing beard, her smile too sad for it to land. Gavin just shrugs and does nothing about it.

He’s bothered when his chest hair starts to grow in. It’s been so long since he’s allowed it, and now the peppering of dark hair over his torso seems completely alien. He stands in front of the mirror before his shower and runs his fingers through it, feels defeated at the thought that he can’t even find the will to keep himself moderately attractive, and his thoughts inevitably drift towards Niles. Niles, who’s only ever seen him fully waxed, what he would think of this lack of self-care.

Gavin hates himself for it.

Chloe, ever the sweetheart, compliments him on the beard and asks what brought on the change of style. Gavin smiles at her, brushes off the pain and regret that builds in his chest and answers simply: “It’s not bad, is it?”

She’s polite, she says he looks handsome and that the beard frames his face nicely. Gavin bites back a bitter laugh. She brings him his morning coffee, he thanks her, they go over his schedule for the week. Nothing new. He’s not sure how he used to do his job before her.

The weather starts to cool as autumn approaches and Gavin slips back into his hoodies and leather jackets, finding some physical comfort in the warmth they provide. Tina’s still in his bed every night, abandoning her own routine to take care of him, and he feels too much guilt to voice it.

It’s not a good thing to admit, but Gavin is getting used to the new normal. The extended work hours and the night terrors are just a new part of his daily life, something he has to deal with because no one else will. He tells Tina he’ll be fine, tries to make her return to her own life, but she’s stubborn as a rock.

Despite the sorry state of his mental health, Gavin thinks he’s improving. He misses Niles less and less with each passing day. Most of the time, he doesn’t even think about the man unless something triggers his memory. He stops visiting his website every other day, stops the toxic habit of reading their old texts or dialing his number without the courage to press the call button, even makes an account on an online dating platform. He doesn’t use it, but its existence is already a start.

His world turns upside-down again on a Saturday morning in late September. Tina’s at the dojo with some friends and Gavin’s home alone, playing trash reality television as background noise for the push-ups he’s doing when the doorbell rings.

Gavin opens the door without thinking, and his brain does not catch up with his eyes before a man pushes past him and invites himself into the house. He’s wearing jeans and a graphic t-shirt, but his jacket looks too formal for that ensemble. His head is shaved on the sides, dark hair pulled back in a bun. He has tired blue eyes, thin eyebrows, and the smirk that belongs to a grade-A asshole.

“Eli, what the fuck are you doing in my house?” Gavin asks, too late to shut the door in his brother’s face. He’s suddenly on edge, aware of his glaring vulnerabilities on display in front of the person who knows how to manipulate him the most.

“Relax,” Elijah says, raising his hands as a sign he’s here in peace. “I was worried about my little brother, is that so wrong?”

Gavin scoffs and crosses his arms defensively. “Bullshit.”

“Don’t do that. I am genuinely concerned for your wellbeing.”

“Bull. Shit.” Gavin spits out the words, tension mounting as Elijah looks down on him from his extra three inches, every line on his face reflecting the image of their father. “You’re not welcome here.”

“I’m your family. Family should support each other and I heard you were having a tough time.”

“The way you supported me during deployment?” Gavin asks, unable to avoid tearing open his own wounds. They weren’t close then, but he was practically abandoned by his only family and that stung.

“I thought you were wasting your potential,” Elijah replies, smooth and calm in contrast to Gavin’s hostility. “I did write to you, you never bothered to reply.”

“ _Happy birthday, Gavin. Come home safe_.” Gavin echoes the words Elijah wrote a decade ago, grimacing at the memory of those letters. “The same thing every time. One letter in October and then nothing for the rest of the year. I needed you. I almost died, I took a bullet in the stomach, I needed you and you weren’t there!”

For emphasis, he lifts his shirt enough to show the collection of scars he bears on his torso. The one he’s referring to is clearly the largest, the one Niles had always seemed fascinated with.

“I know,” Elijah says, and Gavin feels the words like a knee to the stomach. “I was your emergency contact at the time.”

Gavin doesn’t understand at first. It takes the better part of a minute until his brain provides him with a foggy memory, the distant voice of an army nurse. _We expect you to pull through. Your emergency contact has been informed of your condition in case preparations need to be made_.

“All these years,” he starts, looking at Elijah with a brand-new wave of betrayal and hatred. “All these years, you knew.”

“It was not my finest moment,” Elijah admits, though he doesn’t sound bothered or remorseful. He inclines his head, seems to consider his words, then continues. “I considered attempting to contact you directly, but they informed me of the success of your surgery and I thought it unnecessary.”

“I had an armor-piercing bullet lodged in my stomach and you thought it was unnecessary to reach out.” His voice is distant, low, dangerous. It’s not the raging fire it was only seconds before Elijah’s admission. “I asked you to meet me at the airport after that. Even knowing, even then, you didn’t bother to show up.”

“I was busy. Surely you understand, as the chief executive officer of your own company, how difficult it is to abandon your duties for the sake of personal matters.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Gavin straightens his back, tightens his arms over his chest and bites down on his tongue. “Your fucking robots are worth more money than a damaged soldier, it’s a matter of prioritizing, isn’t it?”

“Don’t be a child.”

“Get out of my house before I bash your fucking brains in.”

“You’re not taking care of yourself. You need to see a therapist, I can recommend you-“

“One.”

“Gavin, be reasonable.”

“Two.”

“What would our father think if he saw you in this sorry state? I thought you wanted to prove him wrong, and yet you let your emotions cloud-“

The impact resonates through the living room. It’s Gavin’s forehead, not his fist, that slams into Elijah’s nose. His brother stumbles and groans in pain, blood pouring from his broken nose, eyes squinting as he tries to adjust to the pain.

“I don’t want to know what that asshole thinks of me. I don’t want you looking into my shit. I want you to leave this fucking house right now.”

Gavin wants to feel satisfied at the image in front of him: Elijah hurt, on unsteady feet, his calm, manipulative façade replaced by genuine pain and surprise. All he feels is anger and hurt.

“I’m going,” Elijah says after a minute, breathing unsteadily through his mouth as he tries to use his shirt to stop the bleeding. “But I care about you, Gavin. I do.”

Gavin slams the door shut after Elijah leaves, then presses his back against it and slides down to the floor. Overwhelmed, he breaks. He soaks his forearms with tears as he hides his face in them, sobs wrecking him completely as they tear through his body.

He’s not aware of the passage of time as he cries. There’s no stopping everything from coming out now that he’s alone, new and old wounds torn open, sitting in his oversized house with his overpriced furniture paid for by most people’s dream job, hating himself because even as a successful businessman he can’t have more than one healthy bond.

Eventually, he tires out. His tears dry up, his muscles go lax because they don’t have the strength to contract any longer, his head falls back against the door in defeat.

Elijah didn’t care enough to be there when he was dying. Niles didn’t care enough to stay by his side after his mistake. His father didn’t care enough to love him unconditionally. There’s a spark of humor in there, and Gavin thinks God made him gay as a cruel joke, seeing as the only person who truly loves him is Tina. He breaths out something that might have resembled a laugh if he weren’t exhausted, then allows his eyes to slip closed.

Gavin wakes up three hours later with a headache that contrasts heavily with the emptiness he feels.

Somehow, he makes it off the floor and gets himself some food and water before collapsing face-down on the couch, distantly aware of someone on the television prattling about wedding dresses. He doesn’t move until Tina returns and finds him there.

“Shit, Gavin, what happened?” She’s at his side in an instant, kneeling by the couch and cupping his cheek with a warm hand.

“Eli,” he says, meeting her eyes with a tired, worn expression. “I knew he didn’t give much of a shit, but… he’s a fucking asshole.”

“That’s established.” Tina kisses him on the forehead, runs her fingers through his hair. “Don’t let him fuck you up. You’re doing so well this week.”

“Don’t,” Gavin chokes, shaking his head. “You sound like Niles. Don’t say that.”

“Gav… Gav, are you still that hung up over him?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think about him, but then I do and everything hurts,” he admits, more open now than he had been for the past three weeks. “I fucked up, Teeny. I fucked up so bad and now I can’t do shit about it.”

“He owes you an explanation,” Tina insists. “I know you don’t like it when I say this, but he was a dick. He should give you closure if nothing else.”

“I don’t want closure, I want _him_. It’s pathetic, but it’s true.”

“Then tell him that. Find out if you really have no chance or if you’re suffering for no reason.”

“You’d be okay if we got together?” Gavin asks, not even entertaining the possibility in his heart but curious about her answer. Tina’s spent most of the last month insulting Niles and blaming him for Gavin’s sorry state, her suggestion is surprising enough.

“I don’t know. He _was_ good to you, maybe that’s a sign he can be again. Properly, this time.”

Gavin doesn’t sleep at night. Tina does, two or three hours after they make it to bed, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He pictures Chloe’s face, soft and kind, wonders if she’s really how Elijah learned of his situation. He’s is cunning and manipulative, he always has a trick up his sleeve, it’s likely he painted her a pretty picture and she thought nothing would come of discussing his ties to Gavin.

He decides not to bring it up. Let Elijah live with his broken nose and the knowledge that Gavin is a miserable, lonely man despite his success and wealth. He won’t dare show his face again so soon.

A part of him feels betrayed, but that feeling is not at all rational and he has no intention of driving away the person who’s been helping him keep his company afloat through all his personal drama.

As the days pass, he pushes Elijah to the back of his mind and tries to forget how his words stung. Gavin tells himself he knows better, his family will always let him down, this is no surprise. It doesn’t lessen the blow of knowing Elijah was aware of his near-death experience and did nothing.

It happens because he needs a distraction. He pulls up Niles’s website and looks through the gallery, focusing on the pictures of Niles himself. His face is cold, stern, and Gavin tries to project onto the pictures the softness he knew Niles could express. All he does is drive himself deeper into his misery, but it works on one front: Elijah is no longer his main concern.

If he closes his eyes, he can still feel the ghost touches of Niles’s hands on his body, lingering over his chest and sides, tracing his scars. The more time passes, the less sexual the memories become. They’re now treasured moments of love and adoration Gavin knows he might never feel again.

Friday afternoon, as he’s packing his laptop and preparing to leave the office for the day, Chloe walks in with a pad in one hand and her cellphone in the other. She looks nervous, eyes slightly wider than usual, voice unsure.

“Mr. Reed, a man called looking to set a personal meeting with you on Monday night. He’s been insistent, even though you explicitly told me to keep Mondays open.”

“It’s fine. What’s his name?”

“He did not give me a first name, but…” She looks down at the pad, nods to herself, then looks back at him. “Mr. Stern, that’s what he called himself.”

“That’s odd.” Gavin can’t recall anyone with the surname Stern, but they have plenty of clients who aren’t exactly VIPs when compared to presidents, ambassadors and celebrities. Those are the ones Gavin has no need to meet, they don’t have the status to demand attention from the company’s CEO. Then again, she did say it was a _personal_ meeting.

“He tells me it’s urgent.”

“It’s probably Eli bullshitting me again,” Gavin mutters, too low for her to hear. When she asks, he simply shakes his head. “Send me the details, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Understood. Have a good weekend, sir.”

“Same to you, Chloe.”

When he gets home, Gavin complains about it to Tina, tells her about how Elijah is likely trying to catch him off guard by sending one of his shady friends to pose as a potential client and reassures her that he won’t fall for his brother’s tricks. They end up laughing about the absurdity of it.

He doesn’t laugh when he sees the event on his calendar. Monday. Six o’clock. Detroit Vegan Soul. Those elements are horribly familiar, and all of them together raise a little nagging suspicion in the back of his mind, but it’s so unlikely he immediately dismisses the thought. Elijah probably has someone following him, knows he likes that restaurant, and the time is a coincidence.

By Monday morning, he feels slightly more paranoid about the whole ordeal. It’s easy enough to search the surname in relation to his brother, and he finds the connection even sooner than expected. Amanda Stern, professor of artificial intelligence at Elijah’s university. She’s the woman he’d seen at Elijah’s graduation when they were sixteen, the one who had seemed distant and intimidating but also proud of his achievements. Gavin remembers wanting someone to look at him with that kind of pride and his heart constricts.

He’s reassured by the confirmation that this is just his brother playing tricks on him. It might even be Elijah himself using his professor’s name to secure a meeting with Gavin where he won’t leave with another broken bone. Honestly, Gavin is surprised his brother isn’t suing him for that.

The knowledge allows him to move through the day with ease, focusing on the staff review for the month and going over the most important reports that reach his desk. By the time he leaves the office, he’s almost excited about this meeting. It’s a chance for him to let out some of his anger and enjoy a good meal.

Gavin pulls up to the restaurant just on time. He has no reason to be early, to appear eager in any way. He takes his time finding a good parking spot and walks lazily towards the restaurant, not really paying attention to his surroundings. Then he spots them.

Blue roses on black ink. His gaze trails down the exposed arm and he spots a familiar hand holding a half-burned cigarette between two fingers. His breath catches in his throat before he has the courage to look up, past the casual tank top the man is wearing to the defined jawline, the thin lips and gray eyes, the dark hair with one strand out of place.

“Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know most of you were expecting Gavin to have a stronger reaction, but here's my reasoning: he's a soldier, he knows how to compartmentalize and dissociate willingly when necessary. For most of this, he's in a state of shock, unable to fully process and, at the same time, accepting that he deserves to be abandoned.


	8. Just Give Me A Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with addiction and past abuse, with some mentions of war and the trauma that comes with it.

_It takes two people for a relationship to work; you can’t decide it doesn’t work if you leave one party in the dark._

Niles can’t shake the feeling his friends are right. He tries to convince himself he’s doing the right thing, but the more he reflects on the situation, the more he sees it was poorly handled on his part.

It dawns on him that Gavin, already emotionally fragile from years of abuse and wartime trauma, might not be able to understand Niles’s decision without taking a hit to his self-confidence. All of a sudden, Niles feels incredibly foolish and shortsighted.

He knows he should contact him. Not to proposition him, as Markus suggested, but to explain his feelings and the inner turmoil that led to his hasty decision to terminate their relationship. He also knows Gavin is likely angry and bitter, unlikely to accept anything from him after Niles became just another person who let him down.

Instead of acting, he’s paralyzed by fear. He doesn’t know how to fix this situation because it’s all new, fresh, terrifying. He never knew he could hurt this much for someone he barely knows.

The final weeks of September roll by without warning. The cold brings Niles’s doubts and regrets to the surface, and he decides he needs to accept the help his friends seem so willing to offer. That’s what lands him in a bar on October 1st, a Thursday night.

He sits at an outdoor table with North and Connor, nursing a light beer because he has no intention of being truly intoxicated. He just needed to be outside his house to force himself to talk, weeks alone have left him feeling suffocated in his own bedroom. They’re one person short but if he waits to talk, he won’t get the words out.

“I think you were right,” he admits, and there’s a knowing twinkle in North’s eyes that might as well have been an _I told you so_. “I made a mistake.”

“Finally!” North exclaims, and Connor glares at her. Niles is almost intimidated by that look, the one Connor wears when he’s serious. “What? You’re thinking it, too.”

“Be more considerate. You might scare him back into his shell.”

“I am not a clam, Connor,” Niles protests, tapping his fingers against the glass that holds his drink. It’s wet, sweating from the cold beer against the still warm air of the first days of autumn.

“North means we’re happy you’ve come to this decision. How do you plan to handle this?”

“That’s the reason I called you here. I have no idea.” Niles expects them to offer solutions, not just nod silently as they do. With a brief twitch of his upper lip, he continues. “I doubt he would be pleased should I try to contact him directly.”

“You should try,” Connor pushes, sipping from his own radioactive blue cocktail. “I know you well enough to know you have his number saved.”

“I can’t say any of this over the telephone and I am certain he’ll reject any invitation to meet with me.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine he’d want an explanation for why you dropped his ass like a hot potato,” North replies, unamused.

Connor looks affronted at her bluntness, but Niles has the decency to let his guilt show. Through all of this, he’s been selfish and inconsiderate of Gavin’s feelings, and he’s only now starting to accept that.

Before either of them can reply, they spot Chloe weaving her way through the tables to join them. She’s the best dressed of the four, in her white dress and high heels, having likely come straight from work.

“Hi, boys,” she greets them with a wave, then seats herself sideways across North’s lap and pecks her on the cheek. “Hi, babe. What did I miss?”

“I was telling Niles how he’s a complete idiot,” North explains, wrapping one arm around Chloe’s middle to hold her steady. “He doesn’t want to talk to Gavin.”

“I do! That’s the whole point, I don’t know how to talk to him, but I want to.” Niles looks around as he realizes he might have raised his voice more than necessary and is thankful that no one seems to be paying attention to them.

“Wait, Gavin?” Chloe asks, confused.

“The sub he’s in love with.”

“That wouldn’t be Gavin Reed, would it?”

“You know him?” Niles is surprised, more so when Chloe nods seriously. “How?”

“I work for Mr. Reed,” she replies, looking at North. “Why did you never mention that?”

“How was I supposed to know it was the same Gavin? People share names, it happens.”

“I thought you worked for the Kamski family,” Niles comments, trying to wrap his head around this new information. He has a direct link to Gavin in his social circle and he didn’t know about it for the past month. That thought makes him dizzier than any alcohol could.

“Mr. Reed and Mr. Kamski are brothers.”

“That’s a coincidence and a half,” Connor adds, and Niles can almost see the buffering symbol that represents his thoughts.

“He,” Niles starts, then stops himself. There’s so much to unpack here, so much weight in his heart, he doesn’t know what he wants to say. Meeting Chloe’s eyes, he asks the first question that comes to mind. “How is he?”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out so soft, so telling of his guilt, but it’s clear everyone at the table heard that. Chloe looks sad before she even answers.

“Mr. Reed is… very dedicated to his work. He’s always first at the office and last to leave, even though he knows the stress is getting to him. He drinks a lot of coffee. I can see he’s tired and depressed, but it’s not my place to comment on it.”

“Oh.”

“He has a beard now. If he took care of it, it might even look nice, but… it really just makes me worry.”

Niles nods because he doesn’t know what to say. Gavin was always meticulous about grooming, so the lack of that alone put a heavy emphasis on his perceived depression. He thinks back to their last encounter, the way Gavin was scared to tell him about the man who hurt him, how he seemed small and fragile. Gavin was breakable and Niles might as well have thrown him from the window.

“I can set up a meeting,” Chloe says after a full minute of silence. That’s enough to break the spell for everyone.

“I would never ask you to risk your job,” Niles replies, pushing his beer away because he can’t bear the taste of it any longer. “He would be furious.”

“He doesn’t have to know I know.” Chloe smiles softly, sweet and caring and Niles can’t believe she’d endanger her career for him. “Not until you work things out. I like working for Mr. Reed, but if things go wrong, I know Elijah will take me back.”

“Chloe, this isn’t a good idea.” North sounds apprehensive, and neither she nor Connor seem willing to back this plan. Niles shakes his head.

“Thank you, Chloe, but I have to face him on my own.”

“Okay,” she concedes, and everyone seems to breathe a little easier. “Will you tell me about you two? I want to understand.”

Niles considers refusing her, but he needs to tell someone. Right now, he has the people who care the most about him in the same place and his heart is aching with the number of things he’s kept locked away. Chloe’s almost about to apologize when he starts talking again.

He tells her about their first meeting, about how Gavin slowly let his guard down around him, about the times they talked outside of planning and playing. Connor is surprised to hear they’d discussed him, and Niles assures him it wasn’t anything too personal. But it was, because it was _Gavin_ and Niles had never wanted to discuss his family with a client before.

By the end of his story, which skips entirely over their actual kink encounters, Chloe has North’s hand in a tight grip and her smile is almost enough to break Niles’s heart all over again.

“Mr. Reed is a very private person. If he’s that open with you, he’ll want to talk. He’ll want to fix things, too.”

Niles repeats those words to himself before bed that night and again in the morning before work. He’s overwhelmed and it’s getting increasingly harder to function without dwelling on his mistakes, so he makes last-minute calls to his scheduled clients for the day and apologizes profusely for not being able to make their session due to a _personal emergency_.

He justifies it to himself as he looks down at the pack of cigarettes he paid eight dollars for. A month he’d suffered without indulging, and before that seven years of abstinence, but now he needs a smoke more than he fears the consequences.

He coughs around the first inhale, immediately feels terrible about bringing all these toxins back into his system. He can hear Amanda’s voice in his head as if it were the first time she caught him smoking at fourteen.

_I’m disappointed in you, Niles._

Oh, sure, she had lectured him for an hour about the dangers of the chemical cocktail he was so willingly breathing in, but that was what stung the most. The first time she had said he disappointed her. It certainly wasn’t the last.

He’d quit then, held out until he turned eighteen, but then the pressure was too much to handle. He needed the relief of nicotine and he picked up the habit again, kept at it until he turned twenty-three. He doesn’t remember exactly _how_ he stopped, only that he realized it had become a problem.

Maybe it was his last attempt at reconciling with his mother. It wouldn’t hurt to give her one reason to be proud of him, even if that reason is that he’s no longer killing himself slowly. He thinks about all of that as he sucks that little orange flame closer to the filter, feels heat and bitterness in his throat and lungs, and makes the decision that this will be his last pack.

After the last cigarette is smoked, he’ll talk to Gavin.

He doesn’t get that chance. It’s almost seven on Friday night when he gets the text, and all he can do is stare at it.

_Monday, 6pm, Detroit Vegan Soul. It’s okay if you’re mad, but please go. He doesn’t know it’s you._

He’s not mad. Maybe he should be, because he asked Chloe not to interfere, but he’s not. Part of him knows, deep down, he’d never have the courage to reach out without a little push. He sets his phone down and goes outside to smoke another cigarette.

He goes through a total of five on Friday. He cuts down to three on Saturday because there are things to do: groceries, laundry, scrubbing the stove, washing the bathroom tiles. The chores keep him busy. They also keep his mind off Gavin, stop him from simulating their conversation in his head over and over.

Sunday isn’t quite so easy. Niles knows Connor is coming over, knows he’ll want to talk about it. His first smoke is before breakfast and his pressure drops hard and fast; he throws up into the kitchen sink. It’s not a pretty sight by any means.

He cleans it up, forces himself to eat to prevent it from happening again, and ends up sitting out on the front porch with another cigarette by the time Connor pulls up. Niles knows he can’t hide the smell, so he doesn’t bother putting it out, simply takes another long drag as he waits for his brother to step out of the car and walk up to him.

“When did you pick that up?” Connor asks. He’s not disappointed, not even surprised. Niles wishes he were.

“Was thirteen,” he replies, attempting to smile at his own self-deprecating jest.

“Niles.”

“Friday. I’ll quit when this pack’s done, just ten left.”

“Okay,” Connor replies, sitting down beside him and waving some smoke away from his face.

“That’s it? _Okay_?” Niles turns to him, entirely aware of the fact he’s taking out his frustrations with himself on Connor and of how unfair that is. It doesn’t stop his indignant tone.

“I can’t condemn you, Niles. We’re not children, and you’re not making it a habit. If you tell me you’re having a single pack, I believe you.”

“Sorry.”

“You want me to be angry.” Connor looks at him and he feels bare to his very soul. That’s the good and bad side of having a twin. “I get it. I’m not going to punish you to make you feel better about yourself.”

“I know.” Niles finally finds the strength to smile, something small and genuine. He looks down at Connor’s extended hand and passes the cigarette to him without comment or judgment, watching him take the last drag.

They sit in silence for a while, watching cars go by or the occasional kid on a skateboard. Niles knows what’s coming because the day is tomorrow and Connor can’t not know. Not from the way he looks at Niles from the corner of his eye, watching him to ensure he doesn’t fall apart.

“I know Chloe told you,” he says, when the silence becomes too heavy. Connor blinks innocently, but they both know Niles won’t fall for that.

“Are you upset?”

“The opposite,” Niles admits. He weighs his options, thinks about being outside where anyone can see them, then throws his concerns out the window as he rests his head against Connor’s shoulder. “I couldn’t do it.”

“Will you go? She said you never texted back.”

“Yes. I need to see him, Con. I need him to know, even if it makes him hate me.”

“Amanda used to think I was the dramatic one,” Connor comments with a hint of a smirk and Niles sighs theatrically.

“She used to think you were an angel, too. Oh, Niles, you should be more like your brother. Your brother doesn’t suck dick for money.”

“To be fair, neither of us have been doing _that_ for a while.”

There’s a moment where they look at each other, then Niles’s head falls from Connor’s shoulder and they both laugh. Moments like these, Niles can forget Amanda blames him for everything, thinks he influenced Connor’s sexuality and pushed him towards sex work. Now it’s just them, laughing at their shared experiences, free of her judgment.

“You know she’d throw a fit if she found out about Gavin,” Niles says with a smile, because Amanda would be appalled that he fell for anyone short of Nicola Tesla.

“Hank would be worse,” Connor replies, then pales as he catches himself. “Shit.”

“Hank? Isn’t that a client?” Niles raises his eyebrows, watching with interest as his brother’s cheeks turn red.

“He may be.”

“Con,” he warns, and Connor accepts defeat.

“He’s a client. A client I fuck, but not for money. Not… really. He’s been teaching me really useful things, taking me to events where they talk about investing and managing your money, I’m getting really good at it. He’s helping me make a plan for when I’m too old to sugar.”

“And you feel like you owe him for that?”

“No! I- he’s got a really big…” Connor flushes darker, looks away and ducks his head. “Personality?”

Niles sucks in his breath because he’s not sure he can stop himself from making fun of Connor in this position.

“I like him, okay? I do. I didn’t want you to judge me because he’s older and has a kid and-“

“Shut up,” Niles says, mid-laugh. He swings an arm around his brother’s shoulders and pulls him in tight, using his free hand to ruffle his hair. “We’re hopeless.”

“Who would have thought? The two of us, in love with clients.” Connor smiles as the nervous energy drains from his body and he leans against Niles. It’s nice. “We should tell her.”

“Don’t go poking the tiger, Con.”

“You’re boring.”

They eventually make their way inside, when the weather remembers what season they’re in and the wind starts to blow cold in their faces. Niles doesn’t smoke again on Sunday.

Connor’s gone when he wakes up, leaving behind a note that explains he’ll be with Hank until Cole is home from school. Niles takes a wild guess that Cole is the child Connor mentioned and simply shakes his head.

He tries his best to ignore the pack of cigarettes on his bedside table. Instead, he fixes lunch because it’s too late for breakfast, eats while listening to jazz on the radio, and has only enough time to wash dishes and get himself ready before he has to be at the studio.

Once his suit is on and his bag is packed, he does a double-take and ends up grabbing the cigarettes on his way out. Better to have them and be prepared than have a breakdown in public.

The scene is just another distraction. He immerses himself into the character he needs to play, enjoys the time he spends with his submissive, holds him close when they’re done and he’s crying because a hard caning led him to catharsis. It should remind him of Gavin, but instead it helps him forget for a few hours.

Unfortunately, all good distractions come to an end. Niles thinks of Gavin as he cleans up his equipment, thinks of him sleeping peacefully after their sessions, lips parted as he snored softly.

That memory hurts. It hurts because ever since his friends sat him down to talk, he’s remembering the way Gavin opened up to him in a whole new light. The adoration in his eyes, the way he trembled when touched, how he trusted Niles to hold him and kiss his head and drive the demons away. If he’d told Gavin then, maybe they would have had a chance.

He doesn’t know what he’ll say when he sees Gavin at the restaurant. He has no plan, nothing to go on but his sincere thoughts and feelings about the mistake he made. He hopes it’ll be enough. He changes into casual clothes for good measure, not wanting the barrier a power imbalance creates. This time, he has to be Gavin’s equal.

That’s why he shows up at the restaurant twenty minutes early. He doesn’t go inside. Instead, he leans against the exposed brick wall and lights up because his nerves need him to. He’s almost shaking, his eyes scan every man who passes by his peripheral vision to see if it’s Gavin.

Niles is on his third cigarette when he hears a familiar voice cursing. It’s a low, shocked _shit_ that surprises him, and he looks up into those soft gray eyes he’s grown to love. Before he can speak, Gavin is turning around and heading back the way he came.

Niles forces himself to move. He throws his cigarette on the sidewalk, still lit, and dashes after Gavin with none of his usual grace.

“Gavin, please,” he pleads, grabbing the other man’s wrist because he doesn’t know how else to stop him. It works, because Gavin stops walking and turns to face him. He looks worn down, rugged, but exhausted. “Can we talk?”

“You want to talk?” Gavin asks, strained. He looks around and Niles recognizes the signs of someone who doesn’t want to be vulnerable in public, so he releases Gavin’s arm. “Why?”

Niles can feel the tension in the air. He knows that if he says one wrong thing, Gavin will walk away without another word, so he measures his answer carefully.

“Because I was harsh and unfair and I owe you an explanation, if nothing else.” It’s much harder to say that directly to Gavin, but the words come out. Niles is expecting Gavin to bite back at him, maybe curse and tell him to leave, but what he gets is a slow nod.

“Not here.”

“Should we go inside?” Niles motions towards the restaurant, hopeful.

“No. Come on.” Gavin inclines his head and starts walking, and Niles has no choice but to follow. He’s respectful and patient enough not to start their conversation on the street, waiting until they reach Gavin’s car for that. A click of the smart key unlocks the door and Gavin sits behind the wheel, Niles taking the passenger seat.

It’s awkward again, or maybe it’s _still_ awkward. Gavin looks anxious for Niles to start talking and Niles is desperate to find the right way to begin his explanation, which results in them sitting in silence for a painfully long time.

“Look,” Gavin finally says, eyes on the dashboard and hands on his knees. “I get it. I fucked everything up by putting myself in danger and now you want to make sure I’m not doing it again. Well, I’m not. I’m fine.”

“That’s not at all why I’m here.” Niles finds his voice again, and it’s easier to talk when they’re no longer out in the open. At Gavin’s questioning glance, he continues. “Our relationship was built on trust and communication. I broke your trust by ending things suddenly and failed to communicate properly, and I want to make amends.”

“I don’t want to hear how disappointed you are,” Gavin replies, and it breaks Niles’s heart. He should have known it would come to this.

“I’m not disappointed. Gavin, I have never lied to you.” It’s the truth. He’s kept things from Gavin, softened his words and hid his affections, but he’s never let a falsehood slip past his lips. He’s not going to start now. “I take full responsibility for what happened.”

Now comes the hard part: the reason why it happened. The words get caught in his throat, and he can see Gavin gearing up to debate him, so he has to force them out quickly. He looks away because he can’t possibly be this open while meeting Gavin’s eyes, even though those are still fixed forward.

“I had a responsibility to you as your dominant in a professional setting, and my personal feelings kept me from being able to maintain the emotional distance required for that relationship.”

Niles wants to kick himself. He knows the more nervous he is, the more formal he tends to be, but now is not the time. Gavin does turn to look at him then, confusion clear across his face, and Niles chokes out the last bit of his confession.

“I understand that this violates the trust we built,” he starts, and knows right then he can’t bring himself to say the word _love_. That word is too big, and it’s mostly reserved for Connor on a low day. “It is not something I can keep from happening. I have feelings for you, Gavin.”

There’s a drawn-out silent period in which Niles can hear Gavin’s breaths escalating and then slowing again. He can almost hear him counting them, practicing the one coping tactic he still remembers from therapy.

“Did Eli set you up for this?” Gavin finally asks, broken and distant. Niles knows he’d prefer it if Gavin were angry at him.

“What? No.” It takes a few seconds for the implication of that question to settle in. “No, Gavin, I am telling you the truth. My feelings violated our agreement and I was so afraid of them, I acted without thinking things through.”

“Yeah. I suppose it’s a coincidence you tricked me with his professor’s name.”

“His professor- Amanda?” Niles suddenly realizes how Gavin came to that conclusion and feels the urge to smack himself. He should have thought of the connection between her and Kamski. “Neither of them has anything to do with this.”

“Yeah? How do you know her, then?”

“Amanda is my mother.” Niles almost smiles when Gavin’s face twists in confusion. He knows that reaction too well. “I was adopted,” he explains.

“Shit. So that’s your real name?”

“Yes.”

“Is Niles even your real name?”

“It is,” he admits. “I simply use a different surname for work, initially to hide from Amanda, then to separate my personal and professional lives.”

“Assuming I believe you,” Gavin starts, averting his eyes for a second before deciding against that and locking his gaze on Niles. “Why’d you bother talking to me at all? You cut me loose and ghost me and show up a month later to talk, makes me think you just want me to forgive you so you can stop feeling guilty about it.”

“I am sorry to come across that way,” Niles replies, feeling small. He has to walk on eggshells here or risk hurting Gavin more than before. “I believe I should tell you the whole truth about the situation to prevent further escalation.”

“That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. I hope you tell me the whole fucking truth.”

Niles winces because that was clearly not the best way to phrase his desire to be honest, but he pushes through Gavin’s harshness. He has to. “Chloe set this meeting up without my permission. I know her because she dates my friend,” he adds quickly, worried Gavin might read too far into the confession. “I told them I wanted to reach out to you and mentioned you by name – first name – and she put two and two together.”

“Fuck,” Gavin breathes involuntarily.

“I asked her not to risk her position or go behind your back, but once she had set the meeting, I could not back away from it. I admit my courage fails me at times like these.” Niles pauses, examines Gavin’s expression and finds he can’t read him. He’s reminded of Gavin’s time as a soldier, the image he needed to cultivate to survive, the one he rarely wears when they’re together. “I did not mean to deceive you. I had to know you were taking care of yourself, tell you that none of it was your fault.”

“Let me get this straight. You freaked out because you fell in love with me,” Gavin starts, voice filled with disbelief and resentment. “ _Me_. And then you ghost me for a month, feel guilty about it, accidentally trick me into a meeting and don’t even think of warning me even though you have my number and e-mail. You expect me to… what, forgive you?”

“I expect nothing from you,” Niles replies honestly, inhaling unsteadily and continuing. “I made a mistake. I am owning up to it and apologizing, but you owe me nothing. All I want is for you to be in a good place, and when Chloe mentioned you seemed overstressed, I thought it might be on me.”

That seems to break through some of Gavin’s anger. It’s not enough to calm him, not by far, but there’s a spark of something more. Surprise, betrayal, even a hint of forgiveness. Niles doesn’t dare hope for what he knows he does not deserve.

“I will leave you alone after this, if that’s what you want. I can no longer be your dominant and maintain my emotional distance, but my offer to recommend someone still stands. I would never put you in harm’s way.”

“You,” Gavin says, and his voice cracks around the short word. He turns in the padded seat, doing his best to face Niles directly even in the cramped space of the car. “You are a fucking idiot. I know I promised not to insult you, but shit, it’s like the wheel is spinning but the hamster’s dead.”

“I realize my behavior was-“

“No, shut up. I’m talking now.” Gavin leaves no room for argument, so Niles backs down. “Maybe you get off on being an emotionally stunted robot around people, and maybe you can fool them into thinking you’re not perceptive, but I know better. You realized I was panicking before I did, you caught on to my counting before I said it out loud, you read me like a goddamn open book.”

Niles can’t exactly follow Gavin’s logic, he’s not sure where this is going, but it comes off as a mixture of praise and accusation. He realizes he underestimated Gavin, thought he would react badly and not be open to sharing his thoughts and feelings, but Niles is the immature one in this situation.

“That’s why I think this is bullshit,” Gavin continues, and Niles struggles to listen instead of sinking into his own thoughts. “If this is some sick joke, you can tell Eli I’m fucking done with him.”

Niles tries to reply, he does, but Gavin cuts him off just as soon as his lips part.

“If it’s not,” he says, raising a hand in warning because he’s not done. “If it’s not, you’re just hopeless. God, Niles, are you really about to say you don’t know?”

“I was about to say I would never manipulate your emotions in such a manner, even though you seem convinced your brother would. I imagine that is a story for another day.” Gavin doesn’t look upset or angry – he looks annoyed. Niles tries to convey his apology through his expression as he presses on. “I am not sure what you mean. Feelings are not my strong point, Gavin.”

“You’re a psychologist,” Gavin deadpans.

“I studied to be one, yes. I graduated but never pursued further education, never practiced, and I certainly don’t have any firsthand experience with this.” Niles is embarrassed to admit the last part, but he soldiers on, already in too deep to keep anything from Gavin. “I have dated. Back in college, some time after. I never felt this close to any of those men.”

“That’s all the more reason for me to say you’re a moron,” Gavin replies, hope and softness returning to him with Niles’s final confession. “You had me; you know? You fucking had me all along.”

To say the words hit Niles like a freight train is to understate their impact. He finds himself unable to draw breath for all of seven seconds, and then he inhales through parted lips, searching Gavin’s face for any sign of a lie. There is none.

It makes sense. Every piece of the puzzle lead to this and Niles was just too close to see it. Fear coils in his stomach again as he thinks once again of the possibility that his actions ruined everything.

“Gavin-“

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“I won’t. I won’t, Gavin, I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” Niles doesn’t know why he does it, but he reaches out, extends his hand towards Gavin without daring to touch him first. “I want to make this right.”

He feels foolish when half a minute goes by and Gavin is still put, so he retracts his hand and mutters another apology.

“Get out of the car.”

Niles obeys without hesitation, cursing himself for thinking he still had a chance. He’s about to walk away when he hears the other car door slam shut and the beeping sound that indicates the smart key was used.

“What?” Gavin asks when Niles turns to face him, and there’s a smile hiding under his messy beard. “We have a date, right?”

Niles’s heart swells and he fights back the strong urge to embrace Gavin. He feels his eyes prickling with tears he won’t shed and, after a shaky nod, he allows Gavin to lead the way back towards the restaurant.

They sit down by the window in the far corner of Detroit Vegan Soul and neither knows exactly what to say. They greet the waitress and accept their menus, looking through them for far longer than necessary. After his third time reading the list of beverages, Niles decides to break the silence.

“We still need to talk about this.”

“Yeah,” Gavin agrees, even as his feet lock around one of Niles’s own beneath the wooden table. “You’re gonna make us negotiate the whole fucking thing, aren’t you?”

“We need to know if we are compatible. So far, we have only explored one aspect of this in depth. If we want different things, this may not be worth pursuing.” Niles knows the words are a mistake as soon as they leave his mouth. He wants to take them back, but he’s too proud and he means it. He doesn’t want to invest time and effort into a fruitless relationship, even when the feeling is true.

Much to his surprise, Gavin laughs and briefly tightens the hold on his ankle. “Real romantic, Niles. We can talk it out.”

“Thank you,” Niles replies, honest and relieved. Their point of contact is grounding even through the fabric of their pants and he almost forgets where they are until the waitress asks if they’re ready to order.

“I’ll have the okra stew and the sweet and sour tofu bowl.” Gavin’s eyes scan the open menu one last time before he finishes his order. “A green life smoothie, too, please.”

“Of course,” the waitress responds with a pleasant smile as she takes his menu, then turns to Niles. “What will you have today?”

“I’m thinking the sweet potato bisque,” Niles says, taking a page out of Gavin’s book and choosing a soup to fit the climate in a way his clothes do not. “Followed by the smothered tempeh, and a berry bliss.”

“Great choices. If you need anything else, please call for me,” she says with the same customer friendly voice, collecting the menu from Niles’s hands before walking off to pass on their orders.

Niles watches her back as she retreats, but is pulled back into the moment when Gavin’s foot pulls away from his only to knock against it.

“Pay attention to me,” Gavin complains, clearly playful, and Niles finds it astounding that they’ve returned to this level of comfort in a matter of minutes. There’s that undercurrent of tension, the knowledge of all the things they have to say, but it’s not bad.

“I always pay attention to you,” Niles replies, and he can see the pink tint of Gavin’s cheeks under the coarse hair that covers the lower half of his face.

“You don’t get to be all sweet now.”

“I believe the purpose of a date is exactly for me to be ‘all sweet’.” Niles arches one eyebrow and cocks his head as if daring Gavin to dispute him, but all he gets in return is a roll of his eyes.

“D’you wanna talk about all that shit here?” Gavin asks after a beat of silence, and Niles looks around them. The restaurant is not full.

“We can. However, I believe we would benefit from a more private environment, with more time.”

“Right. My place after dinner?”

The offer is almost shy. Niles breaks through his anxiety long enough for a soft smile to cross his face.

“If you’ll have me,” he replies.

“Yeah.” Gavin ducks his head as if embarrassed, then reaches one hand up to scratch at his beard. “Is it okay if I ask how you’ve been?”

“Of course, Gavin.” For the first time since Gavin’s arrival, Niles thinks of the pack of cigarettes he’s still carrying. “You might not like the answer, though.”

“Figured. Still wanna know.”

“My friends staged an intervention,” Niles comments, thinking that might be a good starting point. He can’t be annoyed when Gavin snorts.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Then… well, my panic increased, I met with them again to try and build up the courage to talk to you. I believe North insulted me and accused me of ‘dropping you like a hot potato’.”

“Like North West?” Gavin asks, and Niles shoots him an incredulous look because he can’t believe that’s what he took from his response. “Kidding, jeez. She is right, though.”

“I am aware.”

“How did that not work?”

“As I mentioned, I am not skilled at navigating this specific type of relationship.” Niles taps his index finger against the table and tries to push away the desire to feel a filter against it. “Even I have unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

“You mean your cancer sticks,” Gavin says, twisting his nose in disgust at the mere mention of the cigarettes. “That shit’s gross, man.”

“I know. I don’t smoke.”

“Were you holding a lit one just for fun?” Gavin’s question is full of disbelief and Niles shakes his head.

“I stopped seven years ago. Picked it back up Friday, but I’m not buying another pack. I’m done.”

“Do you still have some?”

“I do. Seven.” The reply is specific because Niles can’t prevent himself from keeping track. Gavin understands, because his eyes soften and he extends his open hand towards the middle of the table.

“Hand ‘em over. It’s easier if you stop now.”

Niles hesitates. He knows it’s true, and he did promise Connor he wouldn’t fall back into the habit, but the little voice in the back of his head tells him this can all go south and he’ll be left with the uncontrollable urge to blacken his lungs again. Gavin doesn’t back down, though, so Niles reaches into his pocket and pulls out the crumpled pack, handing it over.

“Thank you,” he says, even though he’s more conflicted than relieved. From seven to zero.

“You’re gonna be fine. You don’t need this shit,” Gavin replies with a smile, shoving the pack away into his own pocket with so little care Niles is certain the cylinders are crushed and bent now. “I never told you I used to smoke like a fucking chimney, did I?”

“You’ve always been so concerned with your health. It’s hard to imagine.”

“Yeah. That was after the army.” Gavin laughs, a dry sound that isn’t entirely humorless, but is definitely dark. “Changed my coping style after that. I didn’t mind guys pushing me around but I wanted to live longer. For the first time, I had something to live for.”

“I quit because I realized…” Niles smiles to himself, looking down instead of meeting Gavin’s eyes. “I realized Connor needs me. Maybe I’m the one who needs him, but I like to tell myself he benefits from my presence.”

“Yeah.” Gavin nods, and Niles can believe he understands even before he explains it. “I feel like that with Tina. She’s more family than mine ever was.”

“She’s the friend who checked up on you after our sessions,” Niles recalls, and his regret is smoothed by the thought that Gavin was not entirely alone. “What does she think of the beard?”

“You’re not funny,” Gavin protests, giving Niles’s leg a slight tug. “It looks like shit, doesn’t it?”

“No. It’s… unkempt, of course, but with a slight trim and some beard oil it might work.”

“You into hairy guys?”

Niles considers his words, then smiles. “I’m into _you_.”

“You’re a cheesy fucker. Don’t get attached to this thing, it’s coming off as soon as we’re done talking.”

“Understood,” Niles replies, adjusting his sitting position to make their under-the-table entanglement more comfortable. Then, because he can’t keep himself away from trouble for too long, he speaks again. “How have you been?”

Gavin shrugs weakly, some of the light draining out of him. “You know.”

“I know you’re overworking yourself, but Chloe didn’t exactly give me details.” Niles keeps his tone gentle, nudging Gavin’s leg with the foot that isn’t trapped. _You want to make sure I’m not doing it again. Well, I’m not. I’m fine_ , the words echo in his memory. “I won’t press,” he adds, because he knows that would not be fair.

“It’s fine.” Gavin nods, but it’s not particularly for Niles. “It’s been shit, but I’m fine. Well, maybe fine’s not the word for it, but I’ve been through worse shit in my life. You aren’t the first one to ditch me.”

Niles knows it’s not meant to be a stab at him, but it still hurts. He doesn’t show it, only blinks slowly in acknowledgment and allows Gavin to continue.

“Tina sort of hates your guts, but she says- she doesn’t think this is a bad idea,” Gavin says, leaving Niles wondering what his original phrasing was going to be. “Maybe the reason it hurt like hell is because you’re good to me. I thought maybe if you were really an asshole it would be easier to get over you.”

“In your defense, my actions were cruel and uncalled for. I expected things to go badly today,” Niles admits. He recognizes Gavin’s strength in his maturity, because it’s not the way he’s naturally inclined to react.

“To be fair, so did I.” Gavin shrugs again, shifts his gaze around as if he’s physically looking for the words. “Not that I knew you’d be here, but if we ever talked again. Shit, we shouldn’t talk about this here. Food’s gonna come any second.”

Gavin is right, of course. Not three minutes later, the waitress returns to their table with the soups and their conversation drifts off into the tense-but-comfortable silence of a meal between people who love each other but are only steps away from a discussion that might make or break them.

The most they talk about after that is the food, sampling each other’s dishes – an intimacy that brings a light blush to Gavin’s face. Niles feels his chest constrict with love and fear at the same time.

Their drinks arrive next and Niles tries his best not to make a face when Gavin drinks a mouthful of green smoothie without flinching. He immediately turns down the offer to try it because of all the ways kale can be consumed, he is certain that is the worst.

They share their main courses as well, and Niles turns pink when Gavin insists on feeding him instead of allowing him to steal directly from his plate. They draw some stares from the few other customers at the restaurant, but it’s worth it for the ever-growing feeling that they will be alright.

The tension doubles when the bill arrives. Maybe it’s just him, because Gavin seems calm and focused. Niles pays and Gavin lets him, which is both a relief and a reminder of his mistakes. Their legs finally separate so they can stand and leave, and suddenly all that grounding energy is gone.

They go in their separate cars because Gavin has work in the morning and Niles doesn’t want to bother taking a cab back to the restaurant only to drive home. Thankfully, seven o’clock has come and gone and so they avoided the rush hour. Niles writes Gavin’s address down on his phone, but still follows close behind him rather than rely on the GPS app.

Gavin’s house is nothing less than Niles expects it to be – larger than necessary for one person, well-kept but not necessarily homely, and meticulously organized. He notes that down as another thing that seems to have been drilled into Gavin rather than come from his unadulterated personality.

He’s welcomed inside and immediately grateful to be out of the cold air. There’s a suit jacket in his car, but Niles would rather suffer the cold in a tank top than create any distance between himself and Gavin at the moment. It’s not necessarily the smartest decision, as evidenced by Gavin’s frown when he lays a hand on Niles’s elbow to guide him towards the couch.

“You’re fucking freezing.”

“It’s only a chill,” Niles responds, escaping the touch – reluctantly – to settle on the soft cushions. He’s mindful of his body language, careful not to impose dominance as he usually does but still too proud to shrink away.

“God, fuck,” Gavin curses while rolling his eyes, slipping out of his leather jacket and tossing it unceremoniously on Niles’s lap. “Put it on.”

Niles wants to argue, but the leather is warm and it smells of Gavin and the cold is not all that comfortable, so he slips his arms through the sleeves and pulls the front closed over his chest. “Thank you.”

Gavin nods, visibly uncomfortable now that they’ve reached the precipice they both might fall from, and sits down by Niles’s side. It’s impossible to miss the way he calculates the distance between them, careful not to make it hostile but still far enough away to maintain some level of comfort should this go south.

“So,” he starts, shifting his weight until he sinks further into the cushions. “How do we do this?”

“We should probably discuss our falling out before we speak of the future. This may be uncomfortable for you, considering your encounter with Matt prior to my insensible decision.”

“Matt,” Gavin mutters, and Niles is afraid this is a wound he should not poke. He doesn’t expect Gavin’s surprised huff as a realization hits him. “You remember the bastard’s name.”

“I-“ Niles is stunned that he fixates on that instead of anything else, but he nods. “I may have fixated on the issue.”

“I’d forgotten. Thought maybe it was Mark, knew it was an M-name.” There’s a pause and Niles doesn’t dare disturb the silence, because Gavin’s eyes are shining and his hands are tucked between his knees. “It’s not the first time,” he finally says.

“No,” Niles agrees. He’s seen the marks. “It doesn’t change what happened or the trauma you sustained from it.”

“You learn to deal with it.” Gavin swallows, closes his eyes and then opens them quickly. It’s as if he saw something far worse than this conversation on the back of his eyelids. “Trauma is war. It’s seeing women and children raped and killed and left to rot on the streets and still trying to tell yourself you’re the good guy. It’s screams and gunfire and bombs and smoke, it’s taking a bullet in the gut and no one giving a shit, it’s knowing you’re about to die _for your country_ and you’re not a hero.”

Silence follows. Niles waits, because it seems Gavin wants to continue, but he has mercy when the only sound to come from the other man’s throat is a weak croak that might be hiding a sob.

“I do not disagree. I could not fathom seeing such things and remaining as strong as you did, but one trauma does not negate another.” This is dangerous territory – once again, everything in this discussion seems to be riding on a tightrope. “You trusted people with your body, with your mind and your desires, and they hurt you. Powerlessness can be release, but it can also be scarring.”

“My mind, huh?” Gavin smiles in a sad, self-deprecating manner. “I guess.”

“There’s a reason we plan scenes in advance,” Niles explains, hand twitching on his thigh as he refrains from reaching for Gavin. “When you’re in subspace, you’re not in a position to give informed consent. You lose sight of your own limits. Not all changes mid-scene are an abuse of power, but there are some lines no one should cross.”

“What are you getting at?” Gavin asks, exhausted by the subject, and Niles shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to push you. It hurts me to see you diminishing your pain. Do you still blame yourself for what happened?”

Gavin’s breath catches and his eyes widen. Niles is about to tell him he doesn’t have to answer, they can move on, but stops himself when Gavin nods slowly.

“It’s hard not to. I tried- I was better, when we were talking. You were sweet.” His voice cracks here. Niles thinks of Amanda, of the hell she raised when she disowned him, of the way she broke Connor’s heart. He’s never wanted to turn back time so much as this moment. “I believed you, and then you left, and I couldn’t believe you anymore. It was easier to… I mean, if I disgusted you-“

That throws Niles’s restraint out the window. He moves slowly, mindful of Gavin’s hyperawareness, pulling the smaller man into a tight embrace as he slides closer on the couch until their thighs are pressed together. He feels tears prickling his eyes when Gavin sobs.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby, I know,” he whispers, the endearment slipping out accidentally. Niles doesn’t even notice it once it’s said. “I didn’t consider the impact I might have on your perception of the situation. Of course you’d think I was disappointed, I left you little choice. But I was not, I _am_ not, I am only upset someone hurt you because I want you safe.”

Niles realizes, holding Gavin to his chest as he hiccups and sobs, that _this_ is them. Not the forced distance and stunted negotiation, not the masks they both wear to survive their families and their jobs. 

“I don’t need to push you,” he admits, moving one hand slowly up Gavin’s back to press reassuringly between his shoulder blades. “I apologize.”

Gavin shakes his head and sniffles, gripping the front of the leather jacket as he tries to recover. “No,” comes the weak reply, choked out between unsteady breaths. “No more.”

“Gavin?” Niles asks, gentle and steady despite the whirling emotions inside him.

“Stop beating yourself up, asshole,” Gavin finally says, once he’s able to form full sentences again. He sniffles loudly and wipes his nose on the back of his hand. “I don’t give a shit. You were an asshole, but you came back. You came back.”

“Oh.” Teary-eyed and now also breathless, Niles presses a slow kiss to the top of Gavin’s head. “I did.”

“So none of that-“ Another loud, unsettling sound from Gavin’s nose, but Niles doesn’t comment. “None of that self-hating bullshit. One, that’s my shtick; two, you’re… you.”

“Alright,” Niles replies, rubbing his back to steady himself because he doesn’t know how to reply. “What now?”

“You wanna negotiate this shit, right? We should.” Gavin presses closer and hides his face against the curve of Niles’s neck, tickling the skin with the short hairs of his beard. “S’okay.”

“Yes. I would feel much better talking this through, but Gavin-“

“Shut it. Ask your questions, s’okay.”

“Very well. What would you want from a relationship with me?” That’s the most basic question, but Niles finds it’s not so easy to answer. He’s made enough mistakes not asking it before.

“What do you mean?” Gavin asks, no longer mumbling as he pulls away to look at Niles through red, puffy eyes.

“Do you want me to be your dominator, your master, your boyfriend? Do you expect power exchange outside the bedroom or not? Do you want us to be exclusive to one another?”

“Shit,” Gavin replies, though there’s a weak lopsided smile on his face. “Okay, uh. I want you to be my- my boyfriend,” he continues, though he says the word as if it pains him. “And my dom. Not all the time, though, or I’d go fucking nuts.”

“So you’d rather keep our play to the bedroom, that’s good to know.” Niles brings one hand up to wipe the remaining wetness from Gavin’s cheeks. His fingers linger over the line that separates smooth skin from thick hair, then move in a downwards stroke over his uneven beard. “About exclusivity?”

“Just us.”

“Right. Will my work be a problem?” That’s the question he dreads asking. It always causes confrontation when a potential partner finds his scenes with clients unacceptable, tries to control him when Niles needs to be the one in control, tries to force him away from what he is. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until his chest burns.

Gavin makes a face, twisting his nose and furrowing his brows. “Why, you fucking people now? I don’t care who you beat up.”

“You know it’s more than that,” Niles presses, because this is not an issue he can let slide. “I’ll have scenes like ours. There will be the same aftercare, the connection between a dominant and a submissive, even when it is not romantic or directly sexual.”

“I know,” Gavin says, expression softening. His gaze drifts down to Niles’s lips for a second. “It’s fine. Just don’t kiss or fuck them or run off with one of them.”

“Never,” Niles promises, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “If we do this, I want to build up to it. I can’t take you straight into intense scenes when we’re both raw from emotional conflict.”

“I trust you.”

“Since I will continue to take other submissives for my work, would you like the freedom to engage non-sexually with other dominants?”

“And end up with asshats like Matt?” Gavin sounds incredulous, but he quickly disarms himself and exhales warm air onto Niles’s face. “No. You’re the only good one I ever had, and if I have you, I don’t need anyone else.”

“I admit that answer pleases me more than it should. I am a rather selfish person.”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter, because I’m pretty fucking selfish, too.”

Niles smiles then, warm and soft, bringing one hand up to tangle in Gavin’s hair. “We don’t have to go over every detail right now. I think that’s enough for today.”

“You gonna put me on hold?” Gavin asks, raising his eyebrows.

“No. I know enough to know we are compatible in our interests for this relationship. We can talk about the fetish aspect and power dynamic when we’re clear-headed and focused and ready to discuss rules and limits.”

“Oh. So that’s a yes?”

Niles wants to memorize the way Gavin’s eyes light up. He cups the back of his head and touches the tips of their noses, his lips still tilted upwards.

“Of course, Gavin. I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine.”

He would never expect their first kiss to be quite so gentle. Their lips join slowly in a chaste encounter and Niles allows his eyes to slip closed, focused on the oddly pleasant sensation of the beard scratching against him and the dry cracks of his partner’s lips. He feels Gavin’s hands searching, slipping under the jacket to splay over his ribs. When they pull away, they’re both somewhat embarrassed at the new level of softness displayed.

“Shit,” Gavin says again, this time with a crooked grin. “Holy shit.”

“I missed you,” Niles confesses, because it feels like all he can do now is spill the feelings he’s been holding in for the last month.

Gavin kisses him again instead of replying. This time he parts his lips in an invitation for their tongues to meet, one Niles gladly takes him up on. It’s slow and passionate and at some point, Gavin decides it’s not enough, because Niles finds himself with a lapful of boyfriend as their chests press together.

Any remaining tension drains from them, and Niles’s confidence in their dynamic returns enough for him to guide Gavin, hand firm in his hair while the other slides down his body to close over his hipbone.

They part with pink lips and glassy eyes, blinking back to awareness of the world around them because of a repetitive ringtone. It takes them a few seconds to even realize the noise is coming from Gavin’s phone, tucked into the pocket of the leather jacket Niles is wearing.

“Shit. Oh, fuck,” Gavin scrambles for the pocket and Niles doesn’t understand his urgency, but before he takes the phone he pulls out the crumpled pack of cigarettes. Balling it up in his fist, he then answers the call. “Hey, Teeny.”

Niles hears the echo of a female voice from the device, so he leans back on the couch and watches Gavin’s teeth digging into his lower lip.

“Yeah. Okay, actually, I was about to call you. No, nothing happened. Yeah. I- you don’t have to come home tonight, okay? I mean, _go home_ tonight.”

 Gavin huffs at something she says, bouncing dramatically on Niles’s thighs.

“Teeny, I’m serious, go home. I’m fine,” he insists, and Niles thinks there might be more to their separation period than what Gavin told him so far. “Okay, Niles is here. Yeah. Yeah. We’re good.”

Gavin rolls his eyes for effect, though it’s only for Niles’s amusement, and then draws out an exaggerated groan before extending the phone towards him.

“She wants to talk to you.”

Niles takes it with some trepidation, raising the speaker to his ear. “Ms. Tina? I apologize, Gavin has not provided me with a last name by which to address you.”

“Weston.”

“Stern,” he corrects, locking eyes with Gavin because her tone implies a far more serious conversation than the one he just witnessed.

“I’m not his guard dog, I’m not going to threaten you. Just know Gavin doesn’t deserve to suffer. If you plan to use him and leave, just leave. If not, then try your best not to fuck this up.”

“I understand,” Niles replies, raising his free hand to play with the strings on Gavin’s hoodie. “I have no intention of making the same mistake again.”

“Good,” she says, voice losing some of the hard edge as she breathes a sigh of relief. “Are you staying the night?”

“We have not discussed that.”

“Gavin’s not easy to manage. It’s worse when he has nightmares or the terrors. He can be aggressive, irrational, when he first wakes up from those. He won’t tell you but he wouldn’t have let me speak to you if he wanted to keep that a secret. Just… take care of him.”

“I will. Thank you for informing me.”

“Yeah. Bye, Stern, don’t be a dick.”

The line goes dead before he can reply. Niles passes the phone back to Gavin, leans in to press their lips together for a fraction of a second. “Your hand is going to stink for days,” he points out, glancing down at the cigarette pack still held tightly between Gavin’s fingers.

“It’s your goddamn cancer sticks,” Gavin shoots back, stealing another kiss before slipping off his lap to stand. “Are you going home tonight?”

“Only if you want me to,” Niles responds. He doesn’t want a cigarette now. The count in his mind is still going: seven, zero; seven, zero. “Go throw those out before you throw a fit.”

Gavin sticks his tongue out, but retreats into the kitchen. He comes back wiping his hand dry on his pants and Niles can’t hold back a small laugh.

“Shut it.”

“No, you’re sweet.” Niles stands before Gavin can join him again, meeting him halfway and taking his hands, intertwining their fingers as they stand chest to chest.

“I won’t kiss you if you smoke another,” Gavin warns, but it’s not as threatening when Niles has to look down to meet his eyes.

“I’m done. I promise.”

“Damn better be.”

Niles kisses the tip of his nose and Gavin flushes, pulling away in protest. He stands awkwardly for a moment, then tilts his head towards the stairs.

“C’mon.”

There is no hesitation as Niles follows Gavin up the stairs and to his bedroom. He stops to observe the decoration, a little more personal here, and gets hit in the face with a change of clothes for looking too long at a picture of Gavin with a team of uniformed soldiers on deployment.

“What are these?” he asks, holding up the clothes he barely managed to catch once they fell from their point of impact.

“Sleep clothes. It’s too cold to go naked and I’m not gonna pay that heating bill.”

Niles considers the gray sweatpants and ratty shirt, deciding even ill-fitting comfortable clothes are better to sleep in than denim. He nods. “Where can I change?”

“If you’re gonna be a prude about it, there’s the bathroom,” Gavin says, pointing at the door. As he says this, he pulls of his hoodie and tosses it on the bed, quickly followed by his shirt. “But here’s fine.”

Niles is surprised by the increased definition of Gavin’s muscles, a sign he’s definitely been working himself to exhaustion in more ways than one, and he has to force himself to look away when Gavin’s abs flex as he pulls another shirt over his head.

He decides to undress quickly and efficiently, slipping into the new clothes without giving the chill time to settle in his bones. The pants are too short but nothing is tight or uncomfortable, so Niles simply folds his own clothes and sets them down out of the way, along with Gavin’s leather jacket. By the time he’s done with that, Gavin’s daywear is in a pile on the bed and he’s pulling his own odd, murky green sweatpants on.

Niles waits for Gavin to climb into bed first, then follows him under the covers. He doesn’t comment on the clothes that fall messily onto the floor, not when Gavin crosses the large mattress to press himself up against Niles and kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're not disappointed in this chapter. I thought of creating more angst, of making it heavier and fast-paced and electric, but what these two need is healthy, drawn-out conversation and sometimes as adults you have to know when and where to go through with those. I may have let them off too easy, but I hope you guys enjoy it regardless.


	9. I Wanna Be Yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!

_Boyfriend_. What a ridiculous, childish word. Gavin feels it belongs in middle school, whispered between girls in the hallways, not on the lips of grown men. He uses it because partner is too vague and he’s tired of fighting, tired of losing. The word comes out forced and stilted, but that’s only because of the way it sounds.

Niles touches him then, caring and gentle, and Gavin answers his next question without hesitation.

“Just us.”

Gavin watches Niles’s eyes as they focus on him in return, nervous and determined. Then Niles asks about his work and he can’t help the way his face contorts, unable to fathom barring his partner from his livelihood.

“Why, you fucking people now? I don’t care who you beat up.”

“You know it’s more than that,” Niles says, because of course he can’t accept Gavin’s oversimplification and carry on. “I’ll have scenes like ours. There will be the same aftercare, the connection between a dominant and a submissive, even when it is not romantic or directly sexual.”

“I know,” Gavin says, softer now because he means it. He doesn’t want to think about Niles with other men – he knows the women aren’t threats – but he’s not necessarily jealous. “It’s fine. Just don’t kiss or fuck them or run off with one of them.”

“Never,” Niles promises, and Gavin holds his breath because they’re _so close_. “If we do this, I want to build up to it. I can’t take you straight into intense scenes when we’re both raw from emotional conflict.”

Gavin considers this. He misses their scenes, the release of submissiveness, the feeling of Niles guiding his way. He can have that again, in time, if he knows to wait now without pushing.

“I trust you.”

He’s surprised it’s not a half-truth even as he says it. Niles hurt him, Niles left him, but Gavin still feels safe and centered in his presence. He knows this isn’t enough to make everything right, but they’re getting there.

“Since I will continue to take other submissives for my work, would you like the freedom to engage non-sexually with other dominants?”

That is just insulting.

“And end up with asshats like Matt?” Gavin asks, not bothering to mask his voice at first. He tries to center himself, exhales slowly to release the remaining anger in his body. He has to be _open_. It’s what he’s been repeating in his mind for hours now. “No. You’re the only good one I ever had, and if I have you, I don’t need anyone else.”

“I admit that answer pleases me more than it should,” Niles says, and he does not sound one bit remorseful about it. “I am a rather selfish person.”

“I don’t care.” Gavin thinks of darker things – his job, his past, his willful ignorance of the damage he’s causing. He tries not to let it show on his face. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m pretty fucking selfish too.”

It must be the right thing to say because Niles smiles so sweetly it parts the clouds in Gavin’s mind. There’s a hand sneaking into his hair, fingers rubbing his scalp, and Gavin almost melts into it until he hears what Niles says next.

“We don’t have to go over every detail right now. I think that’s enough for today.”

“You gonna put me on hold?” Gavin asks, eyebrows raised because he can’t believe he did all this for a _maybe_. He can feel the wounds in his spirit opening again, tearing through the stitching their conversation provided, and-

“No. I know enough to know we are compatible in our interests for this relationship. We can talk about the fetish aspect and power dynamic when we’re clear-headed and focused and ready to discuss rules and limits.”

“Oh.” It feels like the air was knocked back into his lungs. Gavin nods dumbly and widens his eyes, filling with hope. “So that’s a yes?”

“Of course, Gavin,” Niles answers and now their noses are touching and it would take so little to push forward and kiss. Gavin swallows. “I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine.”

Gavin’s not sure who went first, or if they both moved at the same time. What he knows is that their lips are touching – finally, after months of building desire, they’re touching. He wants to devour Niles and be devoured, but there’s something incredibly satisfying about the dry press of their chapped mouths, the soft and gentle movements they make together.

Gavin doesn’t pull away, but he pushes himself a little towards the edge of the couch to have a better angle, slipping his hands under the leather jacket to touch Niles because he’s never been allowed to do this.

They part and he’s relieved to know he’s not the only one blushing furiously.

“Shit,” he says, grinning wildly. This is not a dream. His dreams would never be this kind to him. “Holy shit.”

“I missed you.”

Gavin wants to say it back, but he’s unable to stop and form the words. Instead, he kisses Niles again, deeply and passionately until he can’t hold himself back. He climbs into Niles’s lap without breaking apart, which he might later understand is quite a feat, and the feeling of their chests pressed together calms his mind and centers his heart.

The hand in his hair tightens. It doesn’t pull and it doesn’t hurt, but it’s firm and guiding as Niles tilts his head for better access. He feels the other squeezing at his hip, thumb massaging over the bone, and Gavin is ready to give himself over completely.

They break apart. He doesn’t know why, he can’t understand why they would not be kissing at this moment, but there’s _something_ \- a phone ringing. Blinking once, twice, Gavin realizes that’s his ringtone. He’s willing to ignore it until he remembers it’s in the pocket of the jacket Niles is wearing, and so are the cigarettes.

“Shit. Oh, fuck,” he curses, because he can’t believe he’d been that careless. Had he allowed Niles to return home with the borrowed jacket, he’d just tempt him further into smoking even the destroyed sticks left in the pack. Gavin fumbles for the mess of plastic and paper, holds it tightly in his left hand even as he pulls out the phone to answer it. Of course, it’s Tina. “Hey, Teeny.”

“Hey. I called because I have to stay a little later at the dojo, is that alright?” She sounds tired and he feels bad, because she’s been taking care of him for a month and it can’t be good for her health.

“Yeah. Okay, actually, I was about to call you,” he admits, and she interrupts him before he can explain why.

“Did something happen? Do you want me to come home? You can tell me if-“

“No, nothing happened,” Gavin adds quickly.

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Yeah. I- you don’t have to come home tonight, okay?” Gavin wants to hit himself when the words come out, because that’s not what he meant to say at all. “I mean, _go home_ tonight.”

“You’re still trying to get rid of me?” She asks, and Gavin huffs. He rearranges his weight on Niles’s lap, bouncing a little in the process. “You can’t be alone right now.”

“Teeny, I’m serious, go home. I’m fine,” he says, and he’s more than fine but he’s too proud to seem overly enthusiastic.

“You sound better, but still… is there something I’m missing?”

“Okay,” Gavin says, because he knows he might get an earful for this. He can’t lie to Tina, though. “Niles is here.”

“Weston?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you talked?”

“Yeah. We’re good.” _We’re dating_ would be too much to say. It makes Gavin realize that this is moving fast, very fast, and he can’t find it in him to complain.

“If he acts like a dick again, I want you to call me right away,” Tina says, and Gavin rolls his eyes for Niles’s amusement because her words actually warm his heart. “Let me talk to him.”

This is a problem. Tina can scare Niles away, say things about Gavin he doesn’t have the strength to say himself, and he knows she’ll do that for his own good. Gavin knows it’s for the best. He makes a show of protesting, though, drawing out a groan and rolling his head back before he hands the phone over to Niles.

“She wants to talk to you.”

“Ms. Tina?” Niles asks, and his face goes from soft to serious in a fraction of a second. “I apologize, Gavin has not provided me with a last name by which to address you.”

Ah, there is the emotionless robot he first met. Gavin shifts his weight around again because he wants to listen in, wants to know what Tina’s saying, but she’ll probably know if they put her on speaker.

“Stern,” Niles says, and without context Gavin almost forgets that’s his name. Their eyes meet. “I understand.”

Niles reaches a hand to play with the strings of Gavin’s hoodie, tugging on them and rolling them between his fingers.

“I have no intention of making the same mistake again,” he tells Tina, and Gavin can’t marry the tone of his voice to the absolutely adorable way he’s interacting with the strings.

Tina must say something with newfound weight, because his hand stills.

“We have not discussed that.”

God. What have they not discussed? Gavin’s not hyperventilating, he’s not struggling, but he still counts his breaths. In five, hold five, out five. What have they not discussed?

“I will. Thank you for informing me.”

Niles hands the phone back a moment later and Gavin’s mind blanks when their lips meet. He relaxes his shoulders.

“Your hand is going to stink for days,” Niles says, confusing him until he follows Niles’s line of sight to the cigarette pack still clutched in his hand.

“It’s your goddamn cancer sticks,” Gavin shoots back, stealing another chaste kiss and standing. He misses the warmth of Niles’s body almost immediately, but forces himself to walk towards the kitchen. Halfway there, he stops and turns. “Are you going home tonight?”

He should wait to ask that. He knows that, but they’ve been apart for fifteen seconds and Gavin _misses_ him. He looks at Niles with hope and anxiety building again.

“Only if you want me to,” Niles says, and that’s exactly what Gavin wanted to hear. He almost smiles. “Go throw those out before you throw a fit.”

Gavin can’t tell if Niles knows how to read him well enough to pick up on the subtle hints of his anxious mind or if he’s teasing to increase the feeling of intimacy between them. Either way, it works. Gavin sticks out his tongue and goes to throw the cigarettes away, washing his hand with coconut soap and sniffing it before returning to the living room.

He’s wiping his hand dry on his pants because all of his dishcloths are dirty. Niles seems to find something about it funny, because he _laughs_ and Gavin is sure this man will be the death of him. That doesn’t stop him from biting back. “Shut it.”

“No, you’re sweet,” Niles replies, and it’s only a few breaths later that he’s standing in front of Gavin, joining their hands and looking at him like he’s something special.

“I won’t kiss you if you smoke another,” Gavin warns. It’s a cover, because what he wants to say is _don’t look at me, don’t act like I’m good_.

“I’m done. I promise.”

“Damn better be.”

Gavin doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He almost jumps back when Niles kisses his nose because no one’s done that, not ever. It’s so _cute_. His face is burning red, his hands suddenly empty, and he stands there until he can find words again.

“C’mon,” he says, inclining his head towards the stairs. He doesn’t want for Niles to reply, can’t let himself lose his courage.

Gavin feels better once they reach his bedroom, even though it means Niles gets to see where he sleeps every night, what he hangs on his walls, what he chooses to see first thing in the morning. When he lingers on a photo from Iraq, Gavin fishes some clothes out of the closet and tosses them at his face.

“What are these?”

“Sleep clothes,” Gavin replies obviously, picking some out for himself as he speaks. “It’s too cold to go naked and I’m not gonna pay the heating bill.”

“Where can I change?” Niles asks, and Gavin bites his tongue to keep from saying _here, please_.

“If you’re gonna be a prude about it, there’s the bathroom.” He points towards the door, then starts to undress himself because he doesn’t know how else to hide his embarrassment. “But here’s fine,” he adds, tossing his shirt on the bed.

There’s a silent beat during which Niles watches him, eyes curious and hungry, and Gavin uses all his willpower not to meet that gaze head-on. Instead, he avoids looking at the other man as he opens the button and zipper on his pants and pushes them down, shivering when the cold air hits his thighs.

He pulls on an old shirt first, then struggles to right the pants of his green sweats before pulling them on.

The covers were still cold as he slipped under them, but that was no problem at all. Gavin presses close to Niles, leeches warmth from his body as they kiss. He slips one leg between Niles’s own, tangling them together until Niles rolls them over so Gavin’s back is to the mattress and the body over his presses down with blissful, insistent pressure.

He only opens his eyes when Niles pulled away. There is a hand toying with the seam of Gavin’s shirt, careful not to slip under it but definitely considering it. He licks his lower lip in anticipation.

“We should slow down,” Niles says, pulling Gavin’s shirt back into place instead of pushing it up.

“Why?” The disappointment that bleeds into the word is involuntary. He thinks of his scars, his permanently fucked-up face, the fact he hasn’t been taking care of himself recently. Niles has never seen him with this shaggy beard, this growing chest hair, never seen him anything less than smooth and proper below the neck.

“I want,” Niles stops himself, smooths a hand down Gavin’s stomach as he tries to find the right words. Gavin searches his face for clues but finds none. “I want to do this properly.”

“Three dates to fuck properly?” Gavin asks, because he can’t believe Niles would abide by such an old-fashioned rule.

“No.” Niles drags the tip of his nose over Gavin’s cheek, presses his lips to it, and Gavin shivers. “But not tonight.”

“Right,” Gavin replies, because what else can he say? His eyelashes flutter when Niles moves lower and nuzzles his beard, kisses the spot below the growing hairs on his neck. “Don’t fucking tease if you’re not gonna go through with it.”

“I apologize.” Niles kisses his neck again even as he says that, then finally drops his weight down on the mattress beside Gavin. “I find it hard to abstain from touching you.”

“Oh.” Gavin shifts closer again, reaches for Niles’s arm and pulls it over his chest. “You can touch. Hold me. If you want.”

Niles only nudges his shoulder, prompting Gavin to roll onto his side. A hand slides under him, likely uncomfortable in the way it’s pressed between his body and the mattress, but Niles doesn’t complain. Gavin feels his partner’s body against his back then, firm and hot and enveloping him as they spoon, and this time it’s Niles who slips between his legs to increase their proximity. Gavin sighs happily and lets his eyes close.

Neither of them falls asleep right away. Gavin eventually untangles himself from Niles to use the bathroom, Niles reminds him to brush his teeth and asks if he has a spare, clean toothbrush he may use, they fetch water to leave on the bedside table and turn off the lights. They still end up in the same position, Gavin feeling small and protected in Niles’s arms even though his body is thicker and sturdier by far.

He dreams of gray eyes and long fingers, thin lips showering him with praise, kissing over welcome marks and unwelcome scars alike. It’s the best rest Gavin has had in the last month, but his mind is merciless and his dreams are never so kind. It’s three, maybe four in the morning when he sees those gray eyes turn lifeless, his vision range widening until Niles is nothing but a body in a pile and his nostrils burn with the scent of blood and heat and excrement.

Gavin jolts awake, coughing because his body forgot how to breathe, eyes painfully wide. His mind is racing even as he feels the gentle slide of a shin against the back of his calf, of warm toes against his ankle, and then Niles is moving to sit with him. A strong but gentle hand rests between his shoulder blades and it gives him the will to draw a deep, painful breath.

“Gavin?” Niles asks, concerned. His voice is rough from sleep and Gavin thinks he may not be entirely awake yet. He envies the time it takes for Niles to become alert after sleep.

“M’fine,” he manages to say, even though his chest constricts around the words. _Safe_. Safe, Niles is safe, Tina is safe, he’s safe. “Nightmare.”

“Would it be acceptable for me to embrace you?”

Gavin wants to laugh. Only Niles could use the words _acceptable_ and _embrace_ with fog-brain at three in the morning. Instead, what passes his lips is a soft _please_.

A moment later, Gavin finds himself pressed against a strong chest, his face tucked between his shoulder and collarbone, which feels hard and sharp against his cheek. It’s fine. The embrace is what reminds him to breathe properly, the strength of it holding him together. He knows that if Niles lets go, he’ll fall apart.

“Would you like to discuss it?” Niles asks, and Gavin shakes his head weakly.

What can he say? _It’s the first time I see you. You died. I think it was my fault._ He doesn’t even tell Tina about most of them, even when she’s the one holding him and petting his hair and making sure he knows she’s alive and well.

The images will fade. Gavin knows this because they’re already leaving him, as dreams tend to, and all he can recall is that it felt horrible to see whatever it was he saw.

A yawn forces itself past his lips and he’s pressed close enough that it warms Niles’s skin. He becomes aware of the fact the covers fell off them when they sat because his arms are cold. Five in. Hold five. Five out. Gavin nuzzles Niles’s chest as he learns to breathe again.

Niles waits until Gavin relaxes, until he shivers because the cold becomes much more evident when his muscles are no longer pulled tight, and maneuvers them back down onto the bed. This time, Niles ends up flat against the mattress with Gavin half on top of him, holding onto his shirt with an ear pressed over his heart.

Gavin whispers his thanks when Niles pulls the covers back over them, all the way up to his neck. He doesn’t know when he sleeps again, only that he does and that no dreams come this time.

His alarm wakes him with far more gentleness than his own mind could muster. Gavin rolls off of the warm body beneath him, shuts off the repetitive sound before it gets on his nerves. He feels tired and worn, but it’s not all bad. It’s not bad at all when he turns and sees Niles’s silhouette outlined in the darkness, framed by the dip of the blankets.

“Good morning, Gavin.”

“Hey.” Gavin checks the time even though he knows it, he wakes up every day at the same hour. Unthinking, he reaches one hand to trail down Niles’s arm where it was exposed by Gavin rising. “I gotta get ready.”

“I know. Would you like me to prepare breakfast?”

“You don’t know your way around my kitchen,” Gavin replies, touched by the offer. He traces one of the darker patches of skin, the background to the light gray stone angel on Niles’s forearm.

“I can find my way, if you do not mind me looking.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Is there anything you would like?” Niles asks, finally reciprocating the touch by raising his hand to brush his knuckles against Gavin’s stomach.

“Anything, really. Maybe hold back on using honey, don’t wanna overdo it on the sugar.”

“Understood.” Niles was sitting up then, rolling his shoulders back and making Gavin wish he could see more than a faint outline. His stomach flips pleasantly when Niles kisses him, brief and innocent, then stands from the bed.

Gavin sits alone in the dark for another minute. He knows his usual routine – check his phone, check his e-mails before anything else. He can’t do that now, can’t bear to think of how he’ll deal with Chloe’s ever-timely rundown of his day because he doesn’t even want to see her name.

She went behind his back. She got him Niles. She betrayed his trust, not for the first time. She got him Niles.

Shaking his head, he kicks the blankets away and reaches for the light. It’s too bright at first, almost painful, but he adjusts and walks towards the closet to pick out a decent shirt, a new pair of jeans, underwear and some clean socks.

Gavin’s bathroom tiles are cold and unpleasant against his bare feet. He dumps the clean clothes on the closed toilet seat, checks that his towel is in place, then looks at his reflection in the mirror. Not as bad as usual. The beard has to go.

If he wanted a close shave, he’d wait until after his shower to even try going for his face. Instead, he shaves just enough to leave his usual stubble behind, knowing a bare face looks absolutely inadequate on him. He washes away any stray hairs clinging to his skin in the shower.

There’s not much he can do about his chest and pubic hair. There’s no time to take a razor to it before work and Gavin despises the way his skin raises and reddens when he does that, so he makes a mental note to schedule a wax.

He dries himself quickly and regrets not turning on the heat before his shower, because the chill bites at him and his testicles practically retreat into his body. Gavin shivers and curses and dresses himself, aggressively dries his hair on the towel so it’s not dripping everywhere, then slips back into the bedroom for a hoodie.

It only takes a few minutes to check his bag – everything he needs is in there – and tuck his closed laptop under one arm. Gavin descends the stairs like that, tossing the backpack on the kitchen floor with little regard for the items inside it and placing the computer on the counter. He smells vanilla before he sees Niles standing by the stove, flipping small pancakes.

“I thought you’d throw together a fruit bowl. Didn’t know you cooked vegan,” Gavin says, no longer afraid of the word. Not when Niles had already seen this much of him.

“I don’t. The internet helps, I only hope it tastes decent.” Niles looks back at him and Gavin’s heart skips. His hair, usually net except for that one stray strand, is now full of volume and odd angles.

“Shit.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing. I mean, uh, you’re… all that,” Gavin says awkwardly, motioning to Niles’s entire body with a vague wave of his hand.

“Hm,” Niles repeats the sound, although this time it’s more amused than questioning.

“Aren’t-“ Gavin licks his lips. He knows he’s about to sound stupid. “Aren’t subs the ones supposed to do all the house shit?”

“You are not a service submissive,” Niles replies with a curious glint in his eyes. “I enjoy cooking.”

“Right.”

“That being said,” Niles continues, but he’s no longer looking at Gavin. He’s silent as he slides the spatula between the pancake and the pan, lifts it carefully and sets it on the plate. “I believe you should learn how to reward your dominant. This is a two-way street.”

Gavin briefly recalls reading about this. No, not about it, but he’d seen a video title that mentioned rewarding your dom – he never bothered to click on it, because when his relationship with Niles was transactional it was not his place to make those decisions. Now, he swallows thickly as he thinks of the possibilities.

“Now?” he asks, because his brain is short-circuiting.

“No. You have to be on time for work and I still want to do this properly.” Niles turns off the fire, picks up both plates and sets them on the table. “Come eat.”

Gavin glances at his laptop, thinks of multitasking, then decides against it. He settles on the chair closest to the one Niles sits on, lets their fingers brush when he takes the offered syrup. He thinks of his sugar intake, then decides not to dwell on it. He’s in good shape, he can take an extra pour.

The pancakes are good. He tells Niles as much, delights in the ghost of a smile he gets in return for the praise, then goes right back to eating because he hasn’t had the time or willpower for a good homemade breakfast in a while.

Somehow, he doesn’t feel like an asshole even when Niles is the one to wash the dishes to allow Gavin time to check his e-mails. He skips right over the top message – Daily Digest, from Chloe – and focuses on what his clients and associates have sent instead, answering them one by one.

He’s halfway through explaining a proposal for a new training program when arms wrap around his middle and lips find the back of his neck.

“I’m going upstairs to change. How long do we have?”

“Maybe another twenty-five,” Gavin answers, surprised so much time has passed since they woke up. He spent a long time making sure his shave was right, that ate up most of the morning.

“Okay.” Niles runs a hand through Gavin’s hair, messing it up to match his own. Gavin can’t find it in himself to be annoyed. “Can I borrow your comb?”

“Sure. Bring it down when you come back.”

Niles responds by planting another kiss below his ear before releasing him, and Gavin is left with the phantom feeling of his embrace. He shakes it off and goes back to typing.

He sends the e-mail, realizes part of his exhaustion comes from missing out on his morning coffee and decides to put on a pot before he leaves. If he’s late, that’s a worthwhile reason for it.

Niles comes down when the hot water is straining through the ground beans, pooling dark in his cup. Gavin turns to see him wearing his leather jacket, the color strange and striking against his pale skin.

“You can take it. It’s cold outside,” he offers, even though the fact Niles is wearing it means he already assumed as much.

“Thank you.”

Gavin nods and looks back at his coffee, only smiling when Niles embraces him again. There’s something wonderful about the way his boyfriend- partner, dominant can’t keep his hands off him. Gavin feels _desired_.

“Colombian roast?”

“S’good. Brazilian is good, too, but I like this one more.”

“Fancy,” Niles comments, leaning down to rest his chin on Gavin’s shoulder.

Gavin does not share his coffee. There are things he won’t do even for Niles. He drinks slowly, leaning back in Niles’s arms and pretending to be annoyed when a hand slips between his hoodie and the shirt under it.

Too soon, the mug is empty and the clock reminds Gavin the office awaits. He drags his teeth over his lower lip.

“I’m sort of pissed at Chloe,” he says, because it’s best for Niles to know.

“I would not expect less,” comes the unexpected reply, and the hand over his stomach strokes a circle above his abs. “Don’t fire her. She means well.”

“I can’t fucking live without her,” Gavin responds, annoyed at the notion. “Didn’t know how I did before. Not asking Eli for another recommendation, no way… I just… she has to know it wasn’t okay.”

“I know.” Niles kisses his cheek, purposefully dragging his lips over the rough stubble. “You’ll work it out. I will talk to her when I get the chance, echo your sentiment.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on, you’re going to be late.” Niles pulls away, but Gavin turns before he can get far and presses their lips together. He’s indulged for a minute, then an insistent hand presses at his chest. “Late,” Niles repeats.

“Will I see you tonight?”

“I have a rough scene. Tomorrow?”

Gavin nods, swallowing his disappointment. He can hit the dojo, talk to Tina about what happened, let her in on the details before she worries herself sick.

“Tomorrow,” he echoes.

Gavin walks into his office ten minutes late. Before he reaches the glass doors, Traci compliments him on his appearance and informs him of the new reports. Chloe is not at her desk. He breathes a sigh of relief at that.

He has an hour of reprieve before that conversation happens. He checks her e-mail before then because he can’t really avoid his responsibilities, has to know what meetings and calls and visits to expect; he sees her moving about beyond the glass when she comes in, her blue dress and blonde hair catching his eye when she walks over to speak to Traci.

Finally, she brings him his second coffee and a letter from Allen and Gavin has to steel himself. He doesn’t know what to say until the words come out of his mouth.

“Does Elijah know about Niles?”

For a brief moment, Chloe seems surprised. She covers it up quickly, smiles with her glossy lips and tilts her head to the side. That used to be cute.

“Of course not, sir. I would not disclose such information.”

Gavin nods. She’s not denying that she tells Elijah about him, not hiding the fact he probably pays her for it.

“Don’t. I don’t care about everything else. And don’t pull a stunt like this one again.”

“Understood.”

“I mean it. I like you and you do good work, but it’s my fucking private life. I don’t care how you know Niles, if you give a shit or not, no more going behind my back.”

“I apologize, sir. It was not my place.”

“Fine. Fine, we’re good, just- you know. Do your thing.”

Chloe nods and Gavin can’t read her expression for the life of him. He chooses not to dwell on it, picking up the letter and pretending to read it until the door closes behind her. Then he sighs, rubs his eyes and slumps back in his chair.

He’s gone soft.

It takes maybe five minutes for him to focus enough to work, but the day is smooth from then on. One potential investor wants to inspect their facility, so Gavin recruits Chris Miller to help him in the grand tour of the place. They’re lucky to schedule it during one of the classes, so the rich impressionable asshole gets to see a bunch of fresh-faced soldiers shooting targets that don’t come close to the real thing.

Gavin eats lunch with Chris because he’s nice, competent and they’ve established some sort of friendship in the time Gavin has spent preparing him to take charge. He’s not ready yet, or maybe Gavin isn’t ready to give up control. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop preparing him to take over.

“He decided he wants a dog,” Chris is saying, and Gavin is only half-listening until this point. He likes dogs. Used to have one, back when his mother was sober and his father seemed nice and Elijah didn’t exist in their lives. A nice blue Pit, and at the time Gavin saw nothing wrong with the way Bullseye’s ears were cut to make them stand tall and menacing. Now the idea of it made him sick. “Keeps begging me for a puppy, and the wife thinks I should give in.”

“Why not?” Gavin asks, biting a celery stick.

“I think Damian’s too young. He might be rough, hurt the pup without meaning to. I’m trying to convince Claire to wait another year at least.”

Gavin nods, because that’s a good argument. It’s as much for the dog’s safety as the child’s, and Chris is a good father, a good friend. He’s probably a good husband. Gavin feels a pang of longing until he remembers Niles, and that soothes him.

“If we do get one, it has to be an adoption,” Chris continues, waiting to speak until he’s swallowed the hamburger he’s been chewing. Gavin could never be quite that polite. “Claire wanted a husky or something purebred, but I think I changed her mind. Showed her the stats, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a dog?”

“Nah,” Gavin replies, wishing he did. “No time to take proper care of it, not with all this shit on my shoulders.”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, and the conversation falls off there. They finish their food, part ways back at the compound and Gavin ends up in a tedious two-hour conference call.

By the end of the day he’s stressed and tired and all the peace from the morning has vanished. It’s not a problem, though, not when he’s driving to the dojo knowing he’ll tire himself out, knowing Tina will be happy for him even if she’s not necessarily enthusiastic.

He sits through her last class and watches her guide the students through the movements, correcting them when necessary and praising them when they get it right. She pairs them up to practice the _taolu_ , one student on offense and another on defense and then switching.

When they file out of the room after class, she comes to sit beside him on the mat, legs crossed with her feet tucked under her knees.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Gavin replies. “He’s good to me.”

“I know. He’s also an asshole.” Tina’s tone my be teasing, but he can tell it’s not a joke. Her lips twitch upwards and he relaxes. “Wanna get your ass beat?”

“Maybe in a bit.” That’s Gavin’s way of saying he wants to talk, and Tina looks proud. He gives her a smile because he doesn’t know how else to handle it. “You, uh, have questions.”

“Of course,” she answers with a laugh, poking one foot out to nudge at his shin. “How did this even happen?”

“Chloe set us up. She knows him, it’s complicated. Uh, we talked and I freaked out on him, but then we had a date… and I think I freaked out on him again. Anyway, we’re a thing now. A couple.”

“He asked you?”

“No one really asked. We negotiated.”

Tina’s face scrunches up because that’s not how relationships work in her experience, but Gavin huffs a laugh.

“It’s good, I promise. It’s weird as shit, yeah, but it’s… we know what we want from each other, not just for fucking. It’s a nice kind of weird.”

“When can I meet him?” she asks, and Gavin is not one bit surprised.

“Give me a few dates, maybe a couple of weeks. Don’t wanna scare him off too soon.”

Tina seems to agree, but the way her fingers tap her knee makes Gavin nervous. He watches her closely until she speaks again. “I want this to work out for you. I don’t want you to think my worry comes from a desire to sabotage this relationship. I won’t say anything that might make him run, not if he doesn’t deserve it.”

“Shit, Tina, I know.” Gavin shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that.”

That’s all they need to say. It’s not long before she ushers Gavin off to change and throws him a bottle of water, warms up with him even though she’s been moving for hours. After that, they go at each other and Gavin feels sweet relief when his back hits the mats hard. He gives as good as he takes, knocking her down a few times, pinning her arms in place and landing a good kick or three.

They fall back against the mat, dripping sweat and laughing because Tina stumbled her last high kick. Gavin’s chest is rising and falling fast, but he sits up to drink the rest of his water and rests back on his hands when Tina does the same.

“Is it pathetic that I miss him?” he asks suddenly, not at all reassured when she shrugs.

“Maybe. I don’t think so, you haven’t seen him in ages, a few hours won’t cut it.”

“Guess you’re right. I’m seeing him tomorrow, but we haven’t really talked about it. I mean, I don’t know if we’re going out or home or…”

“You own a phone,” Tina points out with an amused smirk. “Shy?”

“Fuck off. I’ll text him, get off my ass.”

“I’m not the one on your ass.”

Gavin shoves her, but it’s mostly to preserve his pride.

They talk until they cool down and Gavin tells her about the pancakes, about how ridiculously domestic it was to see Niles cooking breakfast in his kitchen, wearing his clothes. God, they’ve been dating for one day and he’s already this far gone.

He drives home with his shirt sticking to his skin and steps into the shower as soon as he can, washing all the sweat away. He doesn’t feel the need to burn himself with the water this time. It’s still hot, but it feels like strong arms wrapping around him, like a lover’s caress instead of the bite of punishment.

He texts Niles over dinner.

_What are we doing tomorrow?_

He doesn’t expect an answer right away, but there’s still a certain anxiousness in the silence. One, two, three hours pass. Gavin has to sleep and there’s only so much trash reality television he can consume before the patterns start to irritate him.

He almost jumps when his phone vibrates not two minutes after he settles in to sleep. The notification blinks at the top of his screen, the contact reading _Niles Weston_. Gavin changes it before he reads the message.

_Would you like to watch a movie?_

Gavin knows exactly what to answer, because he’s no longer a teenager who can only kiss boys in the darkness of a movie theatre.

_No. I’m not paying to make out with you and miss the movie, and I’m not spending two hours without kissing._

He can’t deny his excitement when he sees that Niles is typing. He rolls onto his right arm, holds his phone close to his face in the dark and waits.

 _I believe I would be footing the bill_ , the first text reads. Gavin scoffs, but Niles is still typing.

_We may watch a movie at my house. No fee involved and adequate privacy for conversation and more._

More. Vague, open, and it makes heat coil in Gavin’s stomach. It’s been too long and maybe Niles still wants to take it slow, to do it _properly_ , but Gavin can hope. He wills his body to cool down, reminds it he’s no longer a teenager with raging hormones, he can hold off for one day.

 _Sounds good_ , he texts back, adding a winking emoji because he knows Niles is not fond of those. He has to be at least a little bratty, keep up the habit before Niles starts thinking he’s going to be good all the time.

Gavin doesn’t say he misses him, doesn’t text him good night. He gets none of that in return, either, and it’s just fine. He falls asleep with his phone still clutched in his hand.

He’s anticipating a good day when he wakes up. He eats a good breakfast, greets Chloe and Traci with a pleasant smile, even goes through an entire phone call without rolling his eyes into the back of his skull. Things are good. Things are great.

And then he returns from lunch, makes his way into the compound to find their men lined up and being patted down, Allen screaming down the line in a way that reminds Gavin of his drill sergeant. Or Fowler, when Fowler was pissed.

“What’s going on here?” Gavin asks Person, who stands off to the side of the whole mess with her hands clasped behind her back.

“The armory is missing a Barrett REC7, Mr. Reed,” she explains, and Gavin pales. They have never dealt with a missing weapon before, there’s a reason he ordered them to be counted every time they’re used. “Captain Allen thinks one of the men stole it.”

“No one was supposed to go near those today,” he says, running over the training schedule in his head. His men need to learn how to handle those weapons, how to hold and clean and fire them, but there are set days for that. “Why did no one inform me?”

“You will have to ask Captain Allen, sir.”

He does, and Allen gives him a bullshit excuse about not bothering him. Gavin reprimands him in private, careful not to strip him of his authority in front of the men no matter how much he wants to. Allen apologizes and Gavin orders the compound to be shut down, has every man searching for the weapon even as he orders the security footage to be swept for evidence.

The entire afternoon is chaos. Gavin throws Chris to the wolves, telling him to take his calls and meetings while he deals with this mess, because work doesn’t stop over an emergency. All he knows is things will get bad if one of his assault weapons kills someone who shouldn’t be killed.

Gavin almost crumbles when it’s over. One of the soldiers claims to have found it hidden under the trash, but it’s not long until the camera proves he’s the one who took it in the first place. Maybe he panicked when he realized Gavin was not letting a single soul go home until they found the gun. His reasons didn’t matter.

Instead of breaking and being relieved, Gavin is furious. This time he screams and curses in front of everyone, singles out the man who caused the panic and dresses him down with his words, goes at it until his throat is sore.

He can’t leave it at that, of course. Can’t have a threat like this man in his compound or roaming free, so he involves the police and gives his testimony to them. Allen and Person and other soldiers follow in his footsteps. The footage is handed over as evidence; both him taking the weapon from the armory and stashing it in the trash.

Gavin’s not moved when the man – boy, really – confesses. He doesn’t care when he cries and says he was going to sell the weapon, not kill anybody, because he knows whoever buys it would probably do the killing. He doesn’t care when he claims he did it to feed his family. He doesn’t want to know if it’s true or not, and he doesn’t stop to think about it for long. He was a problem, and he was dealt with.

He knows he should rescue Chris, take over his own damn responsibilities, but he’s too angry. He hits the gym instead, takes Allen with him and takes him _down_. They go at it until Gavin’s legs start to shake, neither of them willing to admit defeat or exhaustion, and then Chloe is clearing her throat to announce her presence.

“Shit,” Gavin says, wiping sweat from his forehead on the back of his hand. “What?”

“The work day is over, sir. It has been for half an hour.”

“Shit,” he repeats. “Fine. Thanks, Chloe.”

It takes a moment for him to gather his bearings, and the click of her heels leaving the gym tell him she’s not staying overtime again. Gavin sighs, accepts the towel Allen tosses his way and tries to look like he’s not on the verge of collapse.

They don’t really say goodbye. Allen hits the showers but Gavin wants to save that for when he’s home, because even if he’s exhausted, he has plans and work is no place to prepare for them.

He doesn’t care that he drives somewhat unsteadily. He’s careful enough, alert enough not to hit anything or anyone. He texts Chris when he stops at a red light, apologizing for dumping their clients on him and promising to make up for it. That’s when he notices additional texts from Niles, messages sent shortly before noon. The light turns green.

Gavin reads the messages in the car, but he waits until he’s parked in his garage to do so. The first message is an address and a time – eight o’clock, _if that works for you_ – and the second is Niles saying he’s looking forward to seeing him. Gavin’s heart skips a beat.

 _Might be a little late_ , Gavin texts back, thinking of what he has to do to get ready. _I’ll be there_ , he adds.

He wants to rush in the shower, but he doesn’t. He washes himself first, shampoos his hair and spends at least three minutes washing out the conditioner, some of which he rubs on his chest to make the hair there less scratchy.

Then comes the least fun part of sex. Gavin is efficient and thorough, but he doesn’t enjoy having to clean himself, the only thing getting him through it being how much less enjoyable the experience would be if he didn’t bother doing it.

He dresses in black jeans and a white shirt, considers wearing his leather jacket until he remembers Niles has it, and then pulls on a black hoodie instead. He fixes his hair, checks that his stubble is still acceptably short, and slips into his shoes.

He packs an overnight bag with a toothbrush, a can of deodorant, a change of clothes, condoms and lubricant – although he doubts Niles would need him to take those, considering his profession. Gavin tries not to think of all the men Niles has already taken to bed.

Somehow, he arrives before nine. It’s eight twenty-seven when he pulls up to the house, finding a place to park on the street because he doesn’t know if Niles’s garage will take two cars. He slings his bag over one shoulder and stands in front of the door for a minute before he has the courage to ring the doorbell.

Niles opens the door and Gavin smiles, small and awkward and so tired. “Hey.”

“Come in,” Niles invites him, stepping aside but keeping his eyes on Gavin. He looks concerned and Gavin can’t blame him.

The house is warm, which explains why Niles is wearing short sleeves. Gavin thinks a high-collared tank top should look ridiculous, but it looks hot. He exhales slowly and steps further into the house.

“How was work?” Niles asks, and Gavin feels a weight lift from his shoulder as his bag is taken and set carefully on the couch.

“Absolute shit,” he answers honestly. “Don’t wanna think about it.”

“Come sit with me.”

Gavin is relieved he doesn’t push. Niles sits on the couch and Gavin almost takes his side, but a hand guides him onto his boyfriend’s lap. He settles over his thighs, rests his hands on Niles’s biceps and rubs his thumbs over the art that covers his skin.

The noise in his mind quiets when Niles kisses him, deep and slow. His palm cups Gavin’s cheek, guides him away from his problems, gives him something to focus on.

When Niles leaves his lips in order to kiss over his jawline, Gavin tips his head back and lets out a broken breath. “I’m fucking pissed,” he says, because he is and it’s giving him a headache.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t know.” Gavin looks at him now, envies his control and the way his face looks both stern and serene at the same time. “You wanted to talk.”

“You don’t want to talk,” Niles replies, tracing lines over the outside of Gavin’s upper thigh with his index finger. It tickles.

“No. I want to forget I just dealt with the stupidest shit and I don’t want to go to work tomorrow. Not an option, though.”

“We can talk.” Niles noses at his neck, sighs against his skin and then leans back far enough for them to see each other clearly. “And then I’ll make you forget, if you want.”

Gavin nods, kisses him again before they start to negotiate, shivers when warm hands snake under his shirt to trace circles on his lower back. They stay there, steady and grounding through every question Niles asks, every question Gavin turns back on him because he can’t be the only one who _wants_. And when they’re done, finally done, Niles keeps his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a (WIP) playlist for this story over on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6J6LTdQJFTWtqcjijs7lu9?si=HD-12XpdSuOgsTnZIh3YXA


	10. Make It Holy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mentions unconventional sex toys and knife play, but it's only in conversation. There are also references to past consent violation as portrayed in recent chapters.

Niles makes the decision to take Gavin to bed because he recognizes Gavin’s need for comfort and intimacy. He noses at his neck as he voices the promise, kisses Gavin because he can’t get enough of him, slides his hands under the layers of fabric covering his torso because there’s nothing like being close to this man.

He doesn’t know exactly where to start. Past experience suggests he err on the side of caution, but that leaves far too many questions and no clear order in which to ask them.

“Are you agreeable to the idea of intercourse during sexual relations?” is the phrase that first leaves his mouth, and Niles fights every instinct to duck his head in shame at the forced formality. _You should talk like a normal person._

Gavin seems to find it amusing, despite his mood, because he huffs a laugh. It adds to Niles’s shame, but he doesn’t let it show.

“You really asking me that?” Gavin asks, dips his tongue out to wet his lower lip, shakes his head as if he can’t believe Niles had to ask such a basic thing. “Yeah, I’m _agreeable_. Thought you knew that.”

“From _Matt_ ,” Niles deadpans, trying to ignore the pang of guilt in his chest for even bringing that up. Gavin seems to understand his hesitation, because he kisses him again – chaste, quick, light. Niles doesn’t give him a chance to sneak in a reply. “Would you rather be penetrated or penetrate during intercourse, or are you partial to both?”

“Jesus,” Gavin breathes, his face flushing pink. Niles can see it clearly now that the beard is no longer in the way. “I like getting fucked. Fucking’s good, too, but- yeah, I’m not a bitch for liking it.”

“Gavin.” Niles traces the lower half of his spine with an index finger, looks into his eyes to reassure him. “I would never think less of you for enjoying submission. It’s one of the reasons you fascinate me.”

“Sorry, I know. I just get a little defensive.” Gavin breathes deeply, the words are clearly difficult to say. “What about you?”

“It will come as no surprise that I enjoy dominance,” Niles replies, feeling his heartbeat increase with the weight of the confession about to slip through his lips. “Should I become used to your intimate presence, I would have no issue reversing our roles on occasion.”

“Oh. God, yes.” The words leave Gavin’s mouth seemingly on accident, and he looks away in embarrassment. Niles can’t help the stutter in his chest at the thought Gavin might want him that way. “Don’t get me wrong, shit, I love it when you dom me.”

“I know.” Niles flattens his palm against Gavin’s back, guiding him up and around to face Niles properly as he sits on his thighs. Niles breathes him in as he thinks over the next question. “Are you uncomfortable with any form of oral stimulation?”

Gavin’s throat makes a noise and it pleases Niles that his question was understood without need for elaboration. He would hate to phrase it crudely.

“No. Not uncomfortable at all. You?”

“No,” Niles replies, his own cheeks tinted red. “Would you rather our sexual relations be entirely set within the context of kink, or are you open to variation including but not limited to more vanilla encounters?”

This is one question Niles worries about. They have never explored their desires outside of BDSM, never ventured into that side of their personal lives, and now the sudden relevance of this information makes him uneasy.

“I don’t mind mixing things up. Sometimes it’s nice to fuck without worrying about everything else.” Gavin searches his face for any sign of disapproval, but Niles simply nods his agreement, relieved they’re on the same page. They both relax. “Must be exhausting to live that all the time, even for you,” Gavin comments once he sees he’s in the clear.

“There is nothing wrong with the more traditional aspects of coupling,” Niles responds, amused to see Gavin’s expression at his choice of words. “I enjoy variety.”

“Yeah. Yeah, same here.”

“Are you comfortable with and would you like to incorporate toys and accessories in some of our less elaborate encounters?” Niles presses on, because they have other things they both want to be doing and he has questions beyond count. Not only that, he can sense Gavin’s rising restlessness in the feeling of his taut muscles and the way he holds himself.

“Yeah,” Gavin shifts his weight, leans forward and braces his wrists on Niles’s shoulders.

“Are there any toys you object to entirely or would be uncomfortable with trying without prior discussion?”

“Uh,” Gavin hesitates, drags his teeth over his lower lip. “No weird shit, with the ridges and knots and eggs.”

“Noted,” Niles replies, calm and free of judgment.

“And no fucking sounding,” Gavin insists, shuddering at the mere thought. “That shit is disturbing.”

“I will never push you into true discomfort.” There’s something endearing about Gavin’s repulsion to the thought. Niles can understand, there are things he would not even consider trying himself. “On that note, will you be uncomfortable if I touch or otherwise interact with the scar tissue on your body?”

“ _Otherwise interact_?” Gavin asks, nose scrunching up.

“I would like to kiss it,” Niles explains, eyes focusing on the scar highlighted by the movement of Gavin’s face. “I will understand if you feel this is inappropriate or triggering.”

“I don’t know.” It sounds like an honest answer. Gavin taps his fingers nervously against the back of Niles’s shoulders, shifts his gaze around the room and frowns. “Can’t say I’m not gonna freak out if you do it. I never know when it happens.”

“I will refrain from contact with them.” Niles knows he can’t be selfish here – his attraction is nowhere near enough reason to risk Gavin’s wellbeing, particularly with memories as heavy as the ones behind his scars.

“No,” Gavin says too quickly, and Niles immediately opens his mouth to protest. He’s interrupted before any sound comes out. “No, it’s fine. Just stop if I freak out. You can’t protect me from that.”

“You do not have to put yourself in emotional peril for me,” he insists, moving one hand from Gavin’s back to his hip. Steady, firm, gentle.

“Niles, I don’t know how to say this. It happens. I’m gonna freak out, and if it’s not you it’s gonna be something else. It’s fine.”

“I would rather minimize your discomfort,” Niles tries again, gently brushing their noses together when Gavin leans in even closer. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Don’t want you walking on eggshells around me because of it. Just- pay attention, okay?”

“Alright.” Niles knows it’s not wise to push the subject, not when Gavin’s already distressed. He’ll be careful, inch his way forward to learn Gavin’s comfort levels and discover what he needs – when the time is right. Now, he decides to move on instead, making a mental note to continue this conversation on a better day. “May I continue to use endearments outside our scenes?”

“Haven’t you been doing that already?”

“I should have asked in advance. I am making up for more than one mistake.”

“Hey. I don’t mind.”

“That is a relief,” Niles admits, but he still bites back a pet name. No use oversaturating his speech with them. “What, to you, is the ideal duration of a sexual encounter?”

“I don’t have one.” Gavin shrugs, mindlessly moves one hand to the back of Niles’s neck to play with the baby hairs at the base of his skull. “Whatever happens is usually great. Why? Don’t tell me you’re picky about that shit.”

“No, I simply like to establish limits where necessary. It does not hurt to ask.” Niles leans back into the touch, allows his eyes to slip closed for a second. When he opens them again, Gavin is watching him with careful intensity. “Hm?”

“Nothing. I mean- you look good, that’s all,” Gavin brushes it off, and Niles mourns the loss of feeling when his hand stops moving. “Go on.”

“When did you last test for sexually transmitted diseases?” Niles asks next, because it’s something that is bound to come up. There’s an uncomfortable silence after the question and he rubs circles into Gavin’s skin with the pads of his fingers.

“Shit,” Gavin breathes, tilting his head back as if it might help him think. “At least a year and a half ago, maybe two. Don’t know.”

“Any reason for that?”

“Don’t like doctors. I’ll get tested, though, and ‘til then I’m pretty damn sure I’m clean.”

“Thank you. I will accompany you if necessary,” Niles replies, hoping it offers some comfort. He knows most new partners are put off by discussing the risks involved in sex and wouldn’t like to upset Gavin further, not now. “Have you recently engaged in unprotected intercourse?”

“Not since I met you,” Gavin says, and Niles feels his heart constrict. There’s something sad and tame about Gavin’s face when he speaks again. “Only been with one guy since I met you.”

“Gavin.” Niles kisses him, because he can’t say he’s had the same restraint. He does not regret his encounters, not half as much as Gavin regrets his, but now he wishes he had kept himself if only to echo the sentiment.

“It’s fine. I know,” Gavin assures him. “You’re a sex god and we weren’t together, I don’t care.”

“I am _not_ a sex god,” Niles replies with an amused, airy chuckle. “It’s only you from now on.”

“Good. Can we…?” Gavin uses a brief wave of his head to indicate the path to the stairs, and Niles has to fight the urge to give in. He presses their lips together once more before there can be any protest.

“Not yet,” he says as they part, knowing there are still more things to go over. Too many things. “We should discuss the BDSM aspect of our relationship, what will change and what will stay the same.”

“Are we doing a scene tonight?” Gavin asks, leaning back with an expression that tells Niles it’s not a genuine question. He knows where this is going and he will walk right into it.

“No, but it is still essential we discuss the type of activity we would like to engage in before we go any further,” he tries to argue, and Gavin groans so low in his throat it might have come straight from his lungs. Niles does his best not to react.

“Niles,” Gavin starts, hand tracing the smoke inked onto his upper arm. It’s clear he’s caught somewhere between affection and frustration; made more evident by the way he rocks back on Niles’s lap to sit further towards his knees. “We’re gonna talk about it, I promise, but right now I am _pissed_ and I want to _not_ be pissed. No, I want to be so fucked out I don’t remember what happened today. I wanna talk about this with a clear head, not when I’m about to blow up about some asshole at work.”

Niles watches him for a long moment after he finishes talking, and takes mental notes. Gavin’s words sped up towards the end, a clear indicator of his rising irritation, but he tried and succeeded in keeping himself under control. That settled it.

“You make valid points.” Niles moves his hands out from under the black hoodie and down to Gavin’s thighs, rubs them through the fabric of his jeans as he leans forward for a kiss full of promise. This is not a time for a full interrogation, not with Gavin feeling unstable and needing him in other ways. “I will not neglect your needs just to speed things up.”

It takes longer than either of them would admit for them to get to the bedroom. Between deep kisses shared while still on the couch and the times they stop for far more innocent ones on their way up the stairs, minutes go by until they finally cross the threshold and close the door behind them – a light push of Niles’s foot, only enough for it to click into place with a gentle sound.

Gavin’s hands are back on him only seconds after leaving, roaming over Niles’s exposed arms and tracing the patterns that decorate them. In a moment of indulgence, Niles brings his own hand to cup his partner’s face and runs his thumb over the stubble left behind by his recent trim.

“Damn it, Niles,” Gavin breathes, warm against his mouth. Niles tries to think of the word he would use to describe the moment – _desperation_ denotes a sense of urgency neither of them has, and yet it seems to be the closest he can come to a proper term for the way his fingers twitch over the fabric of Gavin’s hoodie and his other hand curves over his jaw, drawing him in again and again.

The first item of clothing to be removed is the hoodie, that largest and thickest of barriers between them. Niles almost doesn’t care that it hits the floor, almost suppresses the thought of folding it instead. He pushes through those urges to the more pressing ones, traces the pads of his fingers down Gavin’s neck and over the sharp dip of his shirt collar.

“Wait.”

Niles immediately stills his movements, meeting Gavin’s eyes with concern for the nervous energy that has crept back into his voice.

“I didn’t get- fuck, this is embarrassing.” Gavin tries to play it off with a laugh, but his hands dropping to his sides and his insistence in looking away alert Niles to his state of mind.

“Gavin, we’re not checking boxes. It’s perfectly fine if you’re not ready for something.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s, ah.” Gavin rolls his head back, then looks at Niles with a hesitant smile he uses to mask his discomfort. “I didn’t get the chance to wax yet.”

“Ah, is that it?” Niles can’t resist a small, teasing smile. He doesn’t push just yet – keeps his hands still, stands in Gavin’s personal space without making a move to touch more of him. “I know it’s important to you, but I have no issue with body hair. You’re still my beautiful Gavin.”

“Shut up.” Gavin shoves him, a weak push at his middle. It’s not serious, so Niles does not move away. “It’s just not something I like people seeing, but then again, there’s also the scars… and you’ve seen plenty of that.”

“I have no problem with your scars, either.” Niles takes a chance, smooths his palm down Gavin’s chest for comfort. “Would you like to continue? There are things we may do-“

“God, what part of shut up don’t you get?” Gavin complains, but it lacks any fire. “I wanna do it. I’m just warning you, since you’ve never seen me like this.”

“Consider me warned,” Niles replies calmly. Gavin is insecure and defensive, feelings likely intensified by the day’s stress, but that is familiar territory.

There’s another beat, a moment of hesitation from Gavin, and then Niles’s hands are moving again. They find the hem of his shirt and slide under it, covering as much skin as possible as Niles pushes the garment up to be thrown aside.

Gavin’s torso is dusted with brown hair that was never there before, and Niles runs his fingers through it to feel the texture. It’s surprisingly soft. There are hairless patches where scar tissue replaces tan skin, but Niles is undisturbed by the unevenness.

“Beautiful,” he repeats, bringing Gavin in for a kiss. “Maybe one day you’ll believe me.”

“Yeah, yeah. If this isn’t a scene, how come I’m the only one getting naked?”

Niles can tell Gavin is deflecting, but he also hears the request for them to continue standing on equal ground, for Niles to offer him that comfort. He sighs mostly for show and pulls back from Gavin’s body to remove his own sleeveless top, which he folds before tossing on the pile because he is not a barbarian.

Gavin’s hands are on him a moment later, calloused fingers tracing the lines of the newly exposed tattoo. Niles allows it – watches as Gavin seems entranced by the drawing, like he’s trying to read into it and understand.

“What’s with the flowers?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“I’ll tell you all about them another time,” Niles promises, closing one hand over Gavin’s own where it rests on his chest. It’s far too soon for him to go into any of that.

They embrace again, sharing deep kisses as the secure warmth of having their bare chests pressed together settles into their bones. Niles is no longer nervous, done with overthinking the situation because everything feels right.

Gavin ends up with his back to the mattress and Niles settles between his legs, hands brushing the front of Gavin’s pants as he’s reminded of his hatred for the texture of rough denim. All the more reason to remove it.

Niles trails his mouth down Gavin’s chest as his fingers work open the button of his pants and slide down the zipper. He presses his lips to the firm muscles of Gavin’s abdomen, curves his fingers over the waistband of his pants and pulls them down slowly.

Gavin helps him get them all the way off, lifting his hips to get them past his thighs and raising his feet when Niles tugs them up. He throws the pants aside with the rest of Gavin’s clothing, too focused on running his palms up and down the strong, thick thighs now exposed to his gaze.

He leans down to kiss them, something he’s always wanted to do. The skin is soft and not as scarred here and the light hairs tickle his mouth as he passes over them. He’s tempted to mark, to bite and suck until blood rises to the surface and leaves Gavin’s legs nice and purple, but now is not the time.

Gavin says something – a complaint about his teasing, but Niles is too focused to hear the individual words. He blinks slowly and looks up, unaware of his dazed expression when he meets Gavin’s eyes.

“Shit, Niles. You look fucking high,” Gavin comments, and Niles licks his lips slowly. “What the hell?”

“I apologize. You are intoxicating.” Niles isn’t lying. He can feel it in the air between them, the gravitational pull Gavin has on him – has had on him since their first scene together, if he’s being honest. It’s a step or ten beyond simple attraction.

“Just don’t tease,” Gavin complains, dropping his head back against the pillows.

Niles lowers his gaze again, focusing on the bulge in Gavin’s underwear and the steady rise and fall of his breaths. He pushes through the fog that tells him to touch everything and take it slow because he knows Gavin needs release, and that has to be his priority.

“I won’t,” he assures Gavin, moving his hands back up so he can tug at the waistband of his boxers. He makes quick work of removing them, but these he doesn’t toss on the floor. He doesn’t know if Gavin has a second pair and won’t dirty them unnecessarily, so he simply sets them aside on the bed.

Niles can’t resist one last indulgence. Gavin’s Adonis belt is defined and Niles traces the lines with his fingers and lips and tongue, follows them in until he’s up close to Gavin’s erection. He hears the other man’s breath hitch when Niles’s hot exhale hits the sensitive skin, the soft _fuck_ that escapes him when he’s taken in hand.

Niles moves slowly but firmly, adjusting his grip to the curve of Gavin’s cock and watching his reactions carefully. Gavin’s teeth have found his lower lip again and his eyes are closed, but they open when Niles stills his hand and leans in to lick the glans, closing his mouth over it a moment later.

“Fuck,” Gavin curses, and Niles accepts it as encouragement to rest his hand flat against the root of Gavin’s cock and take more of him past his lips, circling the glans with firm swirls of his tongue.

Niles is methodical in working him up – he alternates the movement of his tongue, pressing it up along the underside; sucks and swallows around him; pulls back to kiss his way down to Gavin’s testicles and give them equal attention. He takes each of them into his mouth and rolls them over his tongue, slips his hand down to press and massage over Gavin’s perineum as he does this.

“Oh, fuck, Niles- _god_.” Gavin’s sounds keep him going, and he briefly opens his eyes to see Gavin’s hands fisted in the sheets as his hips stutter upwards in search of more stimulation.

Niles licks his way back up the shaft, swallows it down once more and bobs his head in long, slow movements, pressing forward until his nose touches the trimmed hairs that surround the root and pulling back until only the very tip of the glans rests past his lips, then repeating.

“Niles, ah, damn, wait,” Gavin breathes out, half-moaned as one of his legs bends involuntarily. Niles immediately pulls back, wiping saliva from his lips with his thumb and looking up curiously.

“Is something wrong, sweetheart?” he asks, kissing Gavin’s knee and running an open hand over his calf.

“No, I just don’t wanna come yet.” Gavin raises himself onto his elbows, breathing hard, and meets Niles’s eyes. “Not like this.”

“What do you want?” Niles moves further up on the bed, traces the sharp lines of Gavin’s muscles, takes note of the way he struggles to voice his answer.

“I want- ah, shit,” Gavin laughs, covering his eyes with his forearm and trying to hide his embarrassment behind a crooked smile. “Wanna get fucked. I’m good, I uh- planned for it.”

Niles has to pause at that, because he thought Gavin’s anger might have made him more impulsive – not more prepared. A new wave of affection washes over him as he leans down for a kiss, moving Gavin’s arm out of the way and joining their hands.

“You expected this,” he points out, obvious and enchanted, and Gavin looks away. Niles doesn’t need more confirmation, doesn’t need to push Gavin, because he recognizes that readiness to act and please as a leading trait of Gavin’s personality. “As you wish.”

Niles’s own arousal is evident through the soft black fabric of his pants, almost outlined under the curve of the silver zipper and button. He’s had enough practice controlling himself to where it isn’t a problem, but at the moment it’s proving a very effective distraction from any and all rational thought.

That’s not helped when, during their next kiss, Gavin reaches down to palm him through his pants. Niles presses forward into his hand, exhales shakily against his mouth. “ _Oh_.”

“Come on, Niles. Not gonna make me wait, are you? We’re doing this _properly_ ,” Gavin teases, and Niles joins their lips to silence him. When he pulls back, he climbs entirely off the bed to remove his own pants and underwear, folding them carefully and setting them aside.

He turns back to find Gavin sitting up, watching his every move. Niles offers him a soft smile as he walks around the bed and opens a drawer to find condoms, lubricant and a clean hand towel, setting those on the mattress once he rejoins his partner.

“How would you like to do this?” Niles asks, reaching for Gavin’s hand and tracing his knuckles with the pad of his index finger.

“Don’t really care,” Gavin replies, but his tone is guarded and Niles gives him a disbelieving look. “I don’t know, guys like to do it from behind,” he offers as an amend, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to know what you usually settle for.” Niles moves closer, places his hand on Gavin’s thigh and caresses the skin with his thumb. “Only what you want.”

Gavin hesitates, and Niles wonders if he’s pushing too far. The silent drags on, but his touch remains as he waits for Gavin to reply, gentle and grounding in its intention.

“I guess… maybe I’d like to see you. I don’t get to see you like this a lot.”

“I would like that.” Niles kisses the corner of Gavin’s lips, then guides him back down onto the mattress. He braces his arms on either side of Gavin’s head, presses another soft kiss to the tip of his nose and breathes a laugh when Gavin’s face twists in protest. “Still angry?”

“I’m gonna be if you don’t get the fuck on with it.”

“That would be awfully rude of me.” Niles resists the urge to smile when Gavin rolls his eyes, pushing himself back up so he can focus on the task at hand. He takes one of the pillows and taps Gavin’s leg so he’ll lift his hips, sliding it under him. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Gavin replies, adjusting his position to get comfortable.

Niles allows himself a moment to look, to absorb the sight of Gavin in his bed and waiting for him. He wants to kiss him again, to never stop. Instead, he grabs the lubricant and rolls the tube between his open palms, presses out some of the gel onto his fingers and warms it before touching Gavin’s skin.

He starts with a slow slide of his fingers under Gavin’s testicles, pushing on his perineum in slow circles before repeating the same motion a little lower and tracing over his hole. Gavin’s breathing becomes louder – a sharp intake of breath at the first pressure, then slow exhales as he relaxes and allows his body to accept the inward slide of one finger.

“So good for me,” Niles says reverently, because he can’t resist praising Gavin when he knows the effect it has. There’s a moment where Gavin’s muscles tighten, then he relaxes and closes his eyes, moving his hips down to meet Niles’s hand.

Niles is aware of every little reaction: the way Gavin’s breathing shifts or the soft sounds that get caught in his throat when he bites down on his lip to suppress them, his hands dropping back to the sheets Niles curves that finger upwards, ensuring Gavin is both relaxed enough for penetration and receiving the pleasure of direct stimulation.

It’s a victory when he draws out a first real moan, when Gavin tugs at the sheets in impatience and tries to push down against his hand. Niles praises him again, calls him _sweetheart_ and leans down to kiss as much exposed skin as he can.

“I’m good,” Gavin says at last, looking at him with soft gray eyes. “Come on.”

“Alright.” Niles knows it to be true, with the way Gavin is pliant under him. He slowly pulls his finger free and wipes it on the towel, then reaches for the wrapped condom. He tears the wrapper with his teeth, touches himself slowly and then rolls it on.

“You know, next time you’re not doing all the work.” Gavin smiles at him from his nest of pillows as Niles warms more lubricant in his hand and spreads it over his shaft in long, controlled strokes.

“I know. I wanted tonight to be all yours.”

“Mm. I’m not pissed anymore.” Gavin shifts again, bringing his knees up so he’s better primed for Niles. “But I’m not really feeling fucked out, either.”

“We can change that,” Niles replies, moving forward and looking down as he positions himself, using his hand for guidance. He doesn’t ask permission now, he knows it would only annoy Gavin, so instead he pushes in slowly and holds his breath to keep control.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Take a few seconds; relax,” Niles instructs him, resting his hands on Gavin’s hips and tracing the outer edge of the largest scar with his thumb. Gavin doesn’t seem to notice. “I’ll go slow.”

“Don’t have to. _Fuck_ , I’m good, just- come on, Niles.”

Niles drags his lower lip between his teeth – a habit he’s copying from his partner, he knows – and decides to comply with the request, because Gavin knows better than to lie about his limits. He moves again, starting with shallow thrusts and gradually pushing deeper until a soft groan escapes him and Gavin is biting his index finger to keep his own sounds in.

It’s not the kind of sex Niles is used to. There’s some discomfort in the air – Gavin’s tension and embarrassment, the shadows of their distant and recent past, Niles’s inability to be as verbal and open as he is in a scene – but the connection between them is undeniable, and for once Niles is more concerned about being close to Gavin than chasing physical satisfaction.

“Ni,” Gavin almost whines when his hand drops from his mouth, hooking one leg around Niles’s waist to pull him closer. “Niles, please.”

Niles covers Gavin’s body with his own as he leans down to nip at his collarbone, catching the skin between his lips and sucking a light red mark onto it. “Yes, Gavin?”

“Mh, just- I need more, please.”

“Anything,” Niles replies, adding a second mark to match the first before slipping a hand between their bodies to grasp Gavin’s cock, synchronizing with his thrusts to maintain a steady pace for both of them.

It doesn’t take long for either of them to be reduced to low moans and loud breaths. Gavin’s entire body gets pulled taut when he comes, spilling over their stomachs and his own chest. Niles follows after a few more deep thrusts, riding out his orgasm with Gavin still holding him in place.

Gavin’s legs drop back onto the bed and Niles kisses him before pulling out, efficiently removing and tying the condom to be disposed of. He takes care of that and the wrapper, uses the towel to wipe both of them clean and sets it aside to be washed.

“We should shower,” he says when he settles down beside Gavin, one hand over his chest and playing with the fine hairs there. “You can take the first one.”

“Damn.” Gavin laughs softly, tired. “That was good.”

“Yes,” Niles agrees, tracing the smaller scars on Gavin’s torso. “Go take your shower, I’ll find some clean clothes.”

“I’ve got some in my bag,” Gavin comments, pressing closer to Niles. “It’s downstairs. You take the first shower; I’ll go grab it.”

“Next time, just bring it up with you.”

“If you can keep your hands off me.”

“Unlikely,” Niles replies with a smile, stealing another kiss before leaving the bed to pick out his own clothes and make it to the bathroom. The chill in the air doesn’t bother him as much because of the in-floor heating to keep his feet warm, and he still opts for a cold shower.

When he returns to the bedroom, Gavin has already picked up and folded his worn clothes, underwear included, and set out fresh ones. He’s scrolling through something on his phone until he sees Niles.

“Hey, babe.”

“Babe?” Niles asks, raising an eyebrow. This is new. He’s not usually on the receiving end of pet names, but the strangeness is not uncomfortable.

“Trying it out,” Gavin replies with a shrug. He reaches for his clothes, then groans. “Fuck, I forgot to bring a towel. Do you have one I can use?”

“Of course.” Niles walks to the closet and reaches for a row of folded towels on a high shelf, pulling one down and handing it to Gavin. “I don’t mind the endearments.”

“I figured you wouldn’t. I’m just trying it out, don’t get attached.”

“I know, sweetheart. What do you want for dinner?”

“You probably don’t have much I can eat, anything is fine.”

Niles shakes his head and embraces Gavin when he stands to make his way towards the bathroom, pulling him in close and kissing his shoulder. “You don’t think I would invite you over and not shop for it, do you? I’ll come up with something if you don’t want to choose.”

“Oh,” Gavin replies, and Niles is kind enough to let him go without teasing him for underestimating him.

He sets his mind on making the bed before preparing dinner. He smooths out the sheets and sets warm blankets over them, and he’s halfway through arranging the pillows when he hears loud cursing coming from the bathroom. He’s there in less than a minute, trying the door to find it unlocked and looking inside.

“Gavin, are you hurt?”

“Fuck, Niles, what the hell?” Gavin asks, standing naked and dripping on the mat outside the shower box, cupping himself in one hand for warmth. “Who has heated floors and leaves their shower on the Arctic setting?”

“I am sorry, Gavin. I should have warned you.” Niles fights back the urge to make a quip of the situation and instead walks in to adjust the temperature controls on the showerhead, leaning forward on his toes to reach them as Gavin glares. “There. Give it a minute to warm up and you’ll be good to go.”

“I’m dating a goddamned psychopath,” Gavin mutters as Niles passes him by on the way out, and he thinks back to the time Connor teased him the same way about his habits.

“Take your time warming up, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Niles finishes making the bed before going downstairs. Once in the kitchen, he sets out the ingredients and begins preparing dinner. He slices sugar peas in half, makes carrot strips with a julienne peeler, then sets them aside. For the second step, he whisks together a ginger-sesame sauce and sets it aside to rest.

He boils water and toasts sesame seeds, then cooks the soba noodles and edamame. He hears footsteps coming down the stairs right as he’s combining the drained ingredients and preparing to plate them, filling two bowls with the mixture.

“I hope this makes up for the shower incident,” he says as a greeting when Gavin walks into the kitchen.

“Smells good. You know no one with actual money should deal with a cold shower, right?” Gavin smiles as he says it, which reassures Niles that his reaction was mostly a dramatic exaggeration brought on by the unexpected temperature shock. “You’re fucking weird.”

“I enjoy cold showers. As for my eccentricities, most of the time you do not seem to mind,” Niles points out, setting their bowls down on the table and handing Gavin a fork as he sits. “I hope the food is to your tastes.”

They eat in silence, but Gavin devours his food with so much enthusiasm Niles thinks it’s either delicious or horrible enough to require swallowing without tasting. Given the man’s smile when he slurps the last noodles and licks his lips, Niles assumes the former.

After they finish, Gavin tries to take over and wash the dishes, but he’s a guest and Niles will not allow that. He lightly elbows Gavin in the ribs to make him move out of the way, then leans down to kiss his temple.

“Next time.”

He finds it amusing that Gavin makes a show of rolling his eyes and doesn’t protest when he starts to put away the leftover food, fishing around the cupboards for a Tupperware without asking questions.

This, he realizes, is easy. He doesn’t expect any part of an intimate relationship to be easy, from emotional to sexual intimacy and the inevitable incompatibility, but somehow these moments with Gavin prove him wrong. It’s not always an uphill battle.

Niles twists off the tap and dries his hands, then pours himself a cup of water – which he offers first to Gavin despite being thirsty.

“I’m good.”

Niles drinks slowly, sets the cup down on the counter by the sink and grabs a gray bottle with cold water from the fridge to take back to the bedroom.

“You’ll end up dehydrated,” he comments as he leads the way upstairs, smiling when Gavin struggles to find the right light switch.

Niles sets the bottle down and turns off the heating for the rest of the house from the panel in the bedroom, sliding it shut to turn and find Gavin already climbing into bed. He switches the lights off and joins him – lying down on his back, pulling Gavin to his chest and resting his hands on the exposed skin below the sleeve of his shirt.

They’re silent in the darkness, breathing soft and deep when Gavin swings one leg over Niles’s own and presses closer. It’s the kind of moment that tempts those three words to escape Niles’s mouth prematurely, but he won’t allow them to be heard. He doesn’t want to scare Gavin and, despite his openness and gentle approach, that’s far too much vulnerability for the very start of their relationship.

“Hey,” Gavin says, so softly Niles almost doesn’t hear him over his thoughts. “You still wanna talk?”

“Hm. Don’t you have an early day tomorrow?” he asks, concerned for Gavin’s wellbeing and already preparing himself to help him face more nightmares. “You should rest.”

“I _am_ resting, but I won’t sleep yet.”

Niles considers it, closing his eyes and tracing Gavin’s arm with his fingers. The questions he has now are, for the most part, not as difficult to ask – they’re not as foreign, even if there is the new element of romance. “Have you thought of any changes you want to make to your limits or desires now that we’re in a relationship?”

“I don’t think anything’s changed,” Gavin replies, shivering when Niles’s fingers brush over his elbow. “I mean – I want to touch you and do more sex stuff, but the rest is the same.”

“Those can be worked in as rewards.” Niles stills his hand over Gavin’s forearm, breathes deeply to feel the full weight of Gavin’s head on his chest. “My limits are different in relationships, but only in the level of intimacy.”

“I’m guessing that means the body worship rule is out, hm?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean to say. The connection it brings is far too strong to share with a client, but I have no issue engaging in body worship with a romantic partner.”

He feels Gavin nod and decides not to ask about his stance on the matter, not yet. They can add new elements as they grow closer.

“How often would you like a proper scene?” he asks instead, trying to think of his own desires. His job is demanding of him as a dominant, but scenes with Gavin are more physically than emotionally intense – they don’t ever bring him the same guilt and confusion as some of his clients do.

“The two weeks thing was working well. I’d be fine doing it more often, but I don’t wanna wear you out,” Gavin answers honestly.

“I say we leave it as a one to two-week window and adjust it according to our schedules and disposition. That way, sometimes we may have more frequent scenes or longer rest periods to fit our needs.”

“Sounds good. Fuck, I miss that, we gotta do something soon.”

“I’m sorry, Gavin. I will take good care of you very soon,” Niles promises, heartfelt in his apology and knowing Gavin did not mean to upset him; he pushes any hurt that rises to the very back of his mind. “Are you still comfortable with the usage of physical barriers to further our power imbalance?”

“I did say I like that shit when I sent you the application,” Gavin points out, and Niles can hear his smile. “Yeah, I still want that. Not all the time, maybe, but it’s fucking hot.”

“Good, I’m glad. It is a beautiful contrast,” he agrees, and they slip back into silent peace as he considers his next question. One minute passes, then another, and he settles on something he’s asked before. “Is there anything you’re curious about but not confident in trying?”

“Mh.” Gavin yawns in place of an answer and tightens his hold on Niles’s middle. “Some stuff. It’s probably because my mind is fucked up.”

“I can hardly judge. Is it one of my hard limits?”

“No. It’s on your list, but it’s- you know, considering everything, I shouldn’t think it’s hot. The whole thing with the knives?”

“Knife play? Oh, Gavin, that’s perfectly understandable.” Niles leans forward to press a kiss to his head. “Don’t think less of yourself for it. Kink does involve exploring the dangerous and socially unacceptable within a safe environment, there’s no more shame in that than in what we already do.”

“Yeah. Yeah, but it’s not something I can do. I’m pretty sure that would freak me out.” Gavin doesn’t mention the reason because he doesn’t need to, Niles has seen the evidence on his skin.

“Thank you for telling me that.” Niles moves one hand down to the hem of Gavin’s shirt, sliding under it to rest over his hip. Gavin makes a soft noise – Niles can’t tell what he means by it, but he accepts it as permission to continue. “You expressed disinterest in a full-time power exchange, a decision I agree with, but would you like any aspect of that dynamic to be expressed outside the bedroom?”

“Shit,” Gavin breathes, and Niles feels him shift and rest his chin on the soft muscle below his collarbone. Gavin is looking at him in the dark, likely seeing nothing more than a faint silhouette, but the sentiment shines through. “I don’t know. Never thought of that – had some guys try to do it without asking before, I don’t care for that shit. But… now? I have to think about it.”

“That’s alright. We can always change our terms, there is no need to rush that decision.”

“Thanks, Ni.” Gavin leans forward and kisses him – awkwardly missing his mouth the first time and laughing when he gets it right. Niles sighs fondly and returns the kiss.

“Of course.” Niles runs his thumb over Gavin’s hipbone when an uncomfortable question comes to the front of his mind, and he sets it aside in favor of something simpler. “Would you like to redefine your safewords or keep the same system?”

“I don’t want to change them.”

“Can you remind me what they are?” he asks, a hint of humor in his voice because they both know this is more ritualistic than anything.

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, green for okay,” Gavin says, lying down properly once more and placing his ear over Niles’s heart. Niles gives his hip a gentle squeeze. “Unsat for stop.”

“Good. I have a-“ Niles stops himself, and Gavin probably feels him tense because his hand begins moving over Niles’s side in a gentle caress. “I have one rather important concern in regards to your comfort.”

“Yeah?”

“My profession is no secret.” He bites the inside of his cheek, only enough for the pressure to be noticeable. “Even if you keep yourself out of the public eye, our social circle will be aware of the likelihood of you being my submissive – and some others know that for a fact, because I shared information with them as a friend when I thought they would never learn your identity or meet you.”

“You wanna know if I’m okay with that,” Gavin says, and Niles can hear the strain in his voice. He’s trying not to sound uncomfortable and doing a horrible job of it.

“Yes. I know you value your privacy and this may be a step too far out of your comfort zone.” Just like that, the fear is back and twisting at his insides. Gavin feels heavy now, putting a strain on Niles’s lungs that wasn’t there before. “If you…”

“If you’re implying I’m gonna break this off because of it, stop. I don’t like it, it’s not something I wanna think about, but I’ll deal.” Gavin breathes deeply and Niles almost regrets asking, but he is reassured by the knowledge this won’t end them. “Tina knows, so it’s only fair your friends know too. I just… don’t want it to come up when I meet them.”

“Understood. I will request they respect our choice to keep this part of our life private. None of them would be insensitive to the point of denying us that, not even the more… rash ones.”

Niles smiles to himself at the thought, because the person most likely to push is Connor – still spoiled and demanding even after their hardships, but Niles can’t fault him for it. North and the boys from Jericho would understand and respect their boundaries without question, at least in front of Gavin.

“The rest are details, but there is one more important question.”

“Yeah?”

“Our needs and desires will never be perfectly compatible. I can find satisfaction as a dominant by dividing my attention between you and my clients, most of who share diversified interests, and so it would be unfair for me to limit you. Would you like to engage non-sexually with other dominants?”

“Ah, fuck.” Gavin shakes his head, the movement limited by the position he’s in. “I don’t care for finding someone else. Too much work, don’t want other people knowing my shit, and you’re enough. It’s good like this.”

“If you feel like I am not satisfying you and would like to change these terms, please tell me.”

“Not gonna happen, Niles. It’s just you and that’s okay. I don’t mind that you’ve got clients as long as you’re not fucking them. Or, well, kissing them and going on dates and shit.”

“That’s only for you,” Niles assures him, and his relief is mixed with the unease of recognizing his selfishness in desiring this answer. “I promise.”

Gavin tries to say something, but he’s interrupted by his own yawn. After a strange, throaty noise, he presses his face into Niles’s shirt and mumbles something about sleep.

“Yes, you should sleep.” There’s another question on his tongue, and Niles can’t stop himself from keeping Gavin awake a minute longer to get his answer. “Would you consider wearing a collar?”

“Hm? I usually do, don’t I?” Gavin asks, confused, and Niles almost drops the subject.

“Not a play collar,” he says instead. “Not for scenes. Something more permanent, more discrete.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Some submissives choose to wear what we call a _day collar_. It can be a traditional collar, but more often than not it’s a discrete necklace, a reminder of submission and devotion to be understood only by those with previous knowledge of it.”

“So it’s a symbol of ownership.”

“For some. It also symbolizes commitment and trust, but I won’t require it of you.”

“I don’t know.” Gavin yawns again and his chin digs into Niles’s chest almost painfully. “I could consider it. Something that isn’t obvious is okay.”

“I’ll try to find one that fits you well,” Niles promises, calmer and softer again because he had expected Gavin to turn the idea down entirely. “You can always say no.”

Gavin nods, hums something that’s almost a word, and the next thing Niles notices is the way his breathing evens out and slowly morphs into gentle snores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The incredible Ecchima drew Niles and Gavin, featuring Niles's religious sleeve with exquisite detail and portraying their love through the softness in their expressions. Everyone please go check it out and give it some love! [Here's the link!](https://twitter.com/Ecchimas_art/status/1135112469096128512)
> 
> Find me on tumblr @hassumccoy or @daughterofdeath and on twitter @xhelasdottir.


	11. What Is Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little shorter than usual, but it's still 7k. I hope you enjoy!

Gavin startles awake to find himself surrounded by the unfamiliar: a new scent, strange warmth, oddly soft blankets and a room layout that can be distinguished from his even in the darkness before dawn.

It takes long seconds of intense panic, his hand searching for a knife that hasn’t been at his waist for years, until he remembers where he is and who is sleeping beside him. Even as the realization sets in, his chest still rises and falls quickly with the force of his breaths, which he wills himself to quiet so that Niles may remain unaware.

Whispering a string of curses, Gavin lowers his still-shaking body back onto the mattress and pulls the covers up so the temperature difference won’t wake his partner. Lying on his back, the only point of contact between them now their bare arms brushing, he tries to escape from the flashing images leftover from his nightmare.

It’s easy, in this state of mind, for him to slip back into anger and wish he’d started a fight the day before. The satisfaction of a brawl – of landing a good hit on that reckless boy – is something that might scare away the demons that haunt him. Instead, he tries to think of something good, something that won’t leave him on edge for the rest of the morning. Niles.

Slowly, Gavin touches his fingers to the back of Niles’s hand. He closes his eyes and pictures the key moments between them – the ones that almost make him think he might deserve this. The ones that make him sure he doesn’t, not really, because Niles is too good to be true.

He thinks back on their first meeting, when Niles had seemed so alien and above him, speech far too polite and controlled to be organic. Both of them had put on a front there – Gavin attempting to force himself into a pretty mold for Niles to accept him, Niles distancing himself as much as possible while building a connection because of his sense of professionalism.

It’s strange to compare that Niles to the one with him last night, looking at Gavin with pure huger in his eyes, pupils blown wide from arousal alone. Before that, when negotiating, Gavin saw yet another side of him: the same one from their first date, from the end of that horrible period of silence, formality caused by a deep-seated nervousness Gavin knows too well as the cause of his own aggression.

That’s a realization and a half. Gavin’s therapist, back when he bothered, had once told him _you are afraid of your own perceived weakness_. In his own, less explosive way, Niles is also afraid of the vulnerability he insists is necessary. Gavin breathes, slow and deep, and this time it doesn’t hurt.

He knows there’s too much he wants to say that won’t come out, words that can’t be spoken aloud even when he’s alone and the mirrors are covered. Not only that, he knows part of him will actively try to sabotage this relationship. This is only the calm before the storm. Now, alone in his partner’s company and lost in thought, Gavin promises himself he’ll do better.

There’s movement on the bed and Gavin opens his eyes to the darkness again, feels a warm hand rest on his arm as Niles turns onto his side to face him.

“Hey,” Gavin whispers, careful just in case Niles isn’t fully awake yet. His reply comes in the form of a short, low hum. “Go back to sleep, it’s early.”

“I know,” Niles replies, his voice still raspy and deep, enunciation not as clear as usual. “Join me.”

“I’m right here.”

“Sleep, Gavin,” Niles insists, and Gavin feels warmth blossom in his chest when that hand moves from his arm to rest across his torso, Niles’s head on his bicep. He’ll take the impaired circulation for the comfort of their skin touching.

Sometime between Niles’s first soft breaths and the loss of sensation in his lower arm, Gavin falls back asleep. It’s shallow and dreamless, but he rests until the first beep of his alarm and the feeling of Niles sitting up.

Gavin looks up at him, badly illuminated by the faint blue light shining through the bedroom window, and wonders how many times he’ll get to see Niles’s slight frown at having to be awake before the birds to see Gavin off to work. Hopefully more times than he expects.

Niles says something about making breakfast and Gavin stays in bed to check his e-mails, only rising long enough to retrieve his laptop from his bag to do so. Chloe’s Daily Digest is right there when he reaches the inbox, and he’s not letting a small grudge impact his work life, so he clicks and reads through the responsibilities he really needs to pass onto Chris and Traci if he has any hope of balancing his life.

Clicking through to the next e-mails, he falls into automatic business mode – replying to questions from a client, thanking another for sending back the signed contract with the appropriate number of notarized copies, asking about documents that should have been received a week ago, the usual things anyone in charge does not have to do if they know how to delegate.

Eventually, he gathers his things and makes his way down to the kitchen, grinning crookedly at the sight of a colorful fruit bowl waiting for him on the table.

“No fancy recipe today?” he asks, teasing, and Niles indulges him with a slight roll of his eyes. “I’d be fine picking up food on the way, Ni.”

“I know. I enjoy cooking,” Niles repeats the same words from their first morning together – even if preparing fruit is _not_ cooking – and Gavin wants to kiss him. Instead, he slides into his chair and takes a first bite of melon, trying not to think about the conversation they had about _rewarding your dominant_. When Niles takes the chair opposite to him and sets a steaming mug of coffee down on the table, Gavin’s senses narrow in on the smell. “That for me?”

Niles pushes the mug towards him and nods. If the smell weren’t so right – so familiar – Gavin might remind him he’s not one to drink just anything. Then he spots the package on the counter behind Niles’s head, the very same one they had brought up in conversation in Gavin’s kitchen, and his throat constricts.

“Shit. You didn’t have to.”

“I know. I do not believe relationships are about doing the minimum for a partner, so I chose to buy you coffee.” Niles says it as if it were nothing, a simple gesture between boyfriends that doesn’t mean the world to Gavin.

 _Why are you so picky? It’s a goddamn cup of coffee, drink it and shut up_. The memory resurfaces along with others just like it – ever since his new choice in diet, Gavin was always too picky, too whiny, one boyfriend even accused him of forgetting his roots. Gavin had eaten the chicken wings he bought and spent the next three hours throwing up in the bathroom.

Now, he looks across the table at Niles and wavers because he’s not sure how to react when someone accepts his choices and adapts to them. The food is one thing, but to go out and buy specific imported coffee on a second date – maybe it should be creepy. It’s not. “Thanks. Really.”

“It is good coffee,” Niles replies, and Gavin wonders if he’s intentionally downplaying it. “I might benefit from having a few more quality items in my kitchen.”

Most people in this situation would expect Gavin to push, to be an annoying loudmouth about this the way he is about most things. Instead, he shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. It works for both of them if he accepts Niles’s detraction. “So long as you’re doing good.”

When the food is eaten, the mug is empty and Gavin is ready to leave, bag slung over one shoulder, Niles walks him to the door and kisses him goodbye. They linger a little too long, hands joined together as both of them bite back promises and endearments. Eventually, he slips out the door and back into reality.

Reality involves cleaning up the leftover mess from Wednesday’s incident, meetings Gavin does not want to attend, and far too many spreadsheets. Chloe brings him a sealed envelope and a fresh mug of coffee, and the memory of his partner earlier in the morning eases Gavin out of his anger and stress.

“God, you’re an angel,” he tells her, wrapping the hot mug up in his hands and sinking further into his chair. “I am so fucking done with this week.”

“It can’t be all bad, sir,” Chloe replies, and the knowing smile on her face makes Gavin drink the too-hot coffee with little regard for his tongue’s wellbeing. He can life with a few or several damaged taste buds.

“We’re not talking about that.”

“Of course not. Would you like me to call Mr. Miller in now, or will you take your meeting with him later in the day?”

“Tell Chris I can see him now.” Gavin sips his coffee again, slower this time, and closes his eyes as Chloe walks back through the glass door. In this rare moment of silence, he focuses on the warmth of the porcelain against his palms and the softness of his chair, willing away the stress as best he can.

This is one meeting he can handle without renewing his headache-of-the-day subscription.

Gavin doesn’t bother sitting up straight when Chris walks in, knows this is the one person at work with whom he doesn’t need to put up a front. He motions for him to sit down and offers an honest smile, slightly crooked.

“How are you holding up, Reed?” Chris asks, and Gavin wonders if the planet slipped off its axis sometime in the last week. He raises both eyebrows.

“I should be asking you that. You covered for my ass during that shitshow; I’m sorry I pushed that on you without warning.” Gavin would usually mind his words, but Chris knows him by now. He also knows how seriously Gavin is taking the threat to his company and, by the look on his face, won’t judge him for tossing around a few curses. “You did a good job.”

“I did what you’ve been building me up to do. It’s easier to deal with a few rich folks than some kid who thinks a gun is a toy.”

“Yeah,” Gavin agrees, but what he wants to say is _if I were in Allen’s position, I would have beat that kid so bloody he’d wake up thinking he’s Jesus_. He can’t do that, though, and neither can Allen, so he pushes the thought away and sighs his frustration. “I’m pissed, but I can’t do much about it.”

“Cain’s drilling the men so hard, I’m sure none of them will try to slip one past you again.”

That’s to be expected. It would be expected of anyone in his position, but despite Allen’s mishandling of the initial situation, Gavin knows the man is serious and competent. He wouldn’t keep him around otherwise.

“They damn better not. But enough about that, how did everything go on your front? Anything you need me to clear up?”

They go over everything Chris did, any doubts he might have on how to handle a live situation with a client or supplier, and Gavin feels a little surer of his choice to step back. He’s not ready yet, not prepared for so many big changes in quick succession, but he’s starting to think he’ll get there.

The decision is made to shift the power slowly, the initial step being to copy Chris in important e-mails and allow him to take over some of the scripted correspondence. Gavin calculates an additional fifteen free minutes for himself in the morning while not making a significant dent in Chris’s own schedule once he adapts.

Once he’s alone in his office, Gavin opens the envelope Chloe brought him and looks over the stamps and signatures that validate the documents before calling Traci in to file them for him. He writes an e-mail to the client and thanks them for their readiness and disposal to meet Attila’s requirements, tells them he’s available to answer any questions, and clicks his tongue as his finger clicks _send_.

The next part could be left to either of the girls – it’s simple enough – but his need for control over his workplace forces his hand. Gavin updates the control spreadsheets one by one, so used to the action he hardly needs to check the category before filling it in.

Once everything is organized and saved to the company’s shared server, Gavin has a few minutes of peace before a conference call. He pulls out his phone and sees a message from Niles: a photo of his leather jacket carefully placed on a hanger, captioned _I forgot to return it this morning_.

Gavin smiles, he feels a little giddy at the thought of leaving behind traces of himself – his favorite coffee, leftover food made specifically for him, his jacket. Running his teeth over his lower lip, he uses both thumbs to type a reply.

 _That’s okay. I’ll get it next time_.

He knows better than to expect any immediate response. Instead of lingering on Niles’s window, he opens a chat with Tina and tells her about the previous night. He’s careful to omit any embarrassing details, although she’s sure to fill in the blanks with her overactive imagination.

He quickly shuts off his phone screen when Chloe enters the office again with a refill for his coffee and a small container of carrot sticks.

“Fuel for your call,” she explains, and the last of his resentment at her meddling fades away. If his father could see him now, soft and forgiving, Gavin wouldn’t be quite so accepting of his new path.

Twenty minutes are wasted on introductions, distractions, and questions that would have been answered had anyone read Gavin’s e-mail in full. After another hour and a half of patience, measured words and a back-and-forth about pricing, Gavin closes his laptop with a low groan.

He wallows in his misery for just long enough, then picks up his phone to see new notifications from Tina. The only one showing up as a preview is an entire row of italicized exclamation marks, and Gavin is quite sure she can’t be that invested in him procuring a new dick to ride. He regrets everything when he opens the chat to find out just what is going on.

The entire screen of his phone is consumed by her wave of messages. Between Tina’s _that’s so romantic_ and _did you tell him_ and _do we get to celebrate now_ messages, all Gavin can think of is the lack of one consistent, unchanging collection of words. Words that angered and frustrated him every year, but now they haven’t come and it’s a fresh open wound.

He opens his brother’s chat to check. There is no _happy birthday, Gavin_. There is nothing, not since their last disastrous meeting. Gavin feels as if a cold, heavy rock has settled at the pit of his stomach. Elijah has never missed his birthday, not even when Gavin wished he would.

He switches back to Tina and reads everything a second time, trying to focus on her intentions rather than his feelings. Tina stopped sending him birthday messages on the day years ago, ever since Gavin realized how joyless the day is without something truly special to celebrate – as special as a unit of killers could be. She remembers, though, she always does. She even has the courage to drop off gifts some years, little things she thinks he might like. She stopped giving him cacti after he killed three, the very reason why he is not directly responsible for the plants in his office.

Gavin chuckles when he realizes how far his thoughts have wandered. It’s all he can do to prevent the realization from truly settling in, the painfully romantic ideal of sharing your first time with _the one_ on a special date. Except their first time happened because he was angry, Niles is only _the one_ for as long as he tolerates Gavin, and his birthday is in no way special.

“Thirty-four,” he mutters, trying to decide how to respond to Tina without letting her in on his latest spiral. In the end, he settles for a simple _no fucking way_. Not for the first time, he wishes vulgar emojis were permitted as standards in instant messaging.

She must be between classes, because three dots appear on the screen before he can shut it off. Curious and slightly apprehensive, desperately avoiding his own thoughts, Gavin focuses on the repetitive movement of the dots as they rise and fall in a nice little wave.

_Seriously, did he know?_

_Are you okay or did you freak out?_

There it is. Tina knows him too well, she probably figured out his reaction without even needing to overanalyze his short text. Gavin’s thumbs move over the keyboard before she can ask more questions or turn the blame on herself.

 _No._ It’s too simple, so he considers what else he can tell her without making her worry unnecessarily. One breath in, one breath out. _I just forgot_. Tina doesn’t need to know about Elijah yet, she doesn’t have to carry the weight of Gavin’s unhealthy attachment to the last blood relative he still thinks of as family.

He thinks back to Monday with Niles, before he knew who he was meeting – the still unanswered questions about Amanda Stern, the high probability he would be meeting Elijah, the unsettling comfort at the thought of another confrontation to remind him they still hold some semblance of a relationship.

Admitting this to himself is the same as swallowing a bitter pill. It’s made worse by the knowledge that being let down by his brother softened the way for him to accept Niles’s apology, giving him something new to cling onto. He has to believe at least this relationship – this thing they’re building together – is healthy and good.

It’s going to be good while it lasts.

Gavin slips his phone into the desk drawer as he returns to his work. In the back of his mind, he runs through possible conversations he can have – with Tina, telling her the truth about what bothers him; with Niles, opening up about his birthday and giving him a taste of his background.

It’s too soon to tell Niles. Gavin’s already trusted him more than any previous partner and they haven’t been together for a whole week; pressing any further would just be a game of how far he can push Niles before things crumble.

Gavin only checks his messages again once he’s leaving the compound, but all he finds is one from Tina: _let me know if you need to come over_. He considers it seriously as he sits in the car, how nice it would be to go over this in person and have her support. He texts back a simple _nah_ and drives home.

He’s not surprised when, halfway into the first act of _Rocky_ , Tina threatens to come to his house. He doesn’t answer, but he turns on the entrance light when he pauses the film to refill his cup of water.

Apollo Creed is just finished breaking Rocky Balboa’s nose when he hears the door open, followed by Tina’s loud complaint about him preparing for _Creed_ without her. He holds up his middle finger and shushes her, unbothered when she crosses in front of the television to pick out the DVD for Rocky II.

“It’s not a fucking marathon,” Gavin complains, mostly for show. He cranes his neck to see the fight on the screen until she moves towards him and drops down on the couch. “Put that back.”

“The one time you’re not watching your stupid romantic comedies, you don’t ask me to join,” Tina complains, but her eyes are also glued on the screen. “We’re marathoning.”

“No,” Gavin insists. “The other movies are just fucking filler. Shut up and watch the fight.”

On the screen, Rocky struggles to keep his balance as he takes punch after punch, and Tina is more than happy to watch him fight back. They don’t speak again for the remaining six minutes of the scene or the end of the movie, Tina pretends not to see him flinch when Creed’s ribs take the worst hit, and then Gavin shuts off the television before Tina can attempt to insert the new DVD.

“I don’t see why you wanna watch the others. This shit’s dope, he’s not some rich fuck with sports cars, leaving his lady behind to fight some stupid grudge match.”

“Jesus, Gav, that’s like… four.” Tina makes a face and lands a playful kick to his knee, clearly provoking an argument. “Two is fucking good. Also, you’re in no place to complain about the underdog selling out.”

“Are you calling me a sellout, Chen?” he asks, mock-insulted as he dives forward and takes the film from her hand, quickly pulling away as she attempts to steal it back. “We aren’t watching shit, not tonight.”

She tackles him back onto the couch and they wrestle for control of the plastic case until it falls to the floor, and Tina is fast enough to drive and grab it before Gavin can react. She holds it up in victory and sticks her tongue out at him.

“We’re marathoning.”

“Fuck you.”

“Either we watch everything tonight,” Tina starts, knowing Gavin will give in to whatever she demands because it’s a work night, “or you tell me what’s bothering you.”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Gavin motions to the cushion beside him. Tina still has the damned DVD in her hands as she sits down, but her expression takes a turn for the serious.

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s not that I wanna keep shit from you, Teeny. There’s just a lot going on and- shit. Things are moving fast.” _Moving fast._ Gavin wants to laugh at himself for sounding like a prude, but it’s true. He’s used to putting out on first dates and having aggressive sexual relationships, but it’s too fast to use the word love, too fast to hold each other gently on the couch and talk about feelings, too fast to share expensive organic coffee over breakfast. He loves it, but he’s terrified.

“Tell him that, then,” Tina suggests, and Gavin doesn’t complain when she brings her feet up onto the couch, knees held close to her chest. “Isn’t that part of your negotiating thing?”

“I don’t know,” he replies weakly, then shakes his head. “Fuck that. It is, but I don’t- I don’t hate it.”

“I know. What’s _really_ going on, Gav?”

Gavin hesitates, then shuffles closer to her and takes comfort in the physical closeness, the feeling of their arms touching through the fabric of their jackets.

“Niles bought my favorite coffee. And- and Eli didn’t text.” Two completely different problems tied up in a confusing situation: likely the best description for the course of Gavin’s life. He’s too busy looking at the blank television to see Tina’s face fall, but he hears it in her voice.

“Because of your fight?” she asks, and Gavin can hear Elijah’s nose crack against his forehead all over again. He nods. “He doesn’t have the right to be angry, not after what he did to you. It’s not right for him to come and go as he pleases, messing with your head that way.”

“Teeny-“

“No, Gavin.” Her tone hardens and he knows what’s coming, what he should have heard a long time ago. “He almost got you killed, he didn’t give a single shit when you were dying, and now he comes around asking for favors, mocking you- he’s a dick. I don’t understand why you still want his attention.”

“He’s my brother,” Gavin answers weakly, but he knows that carries no weight. He should want the same attention from his parents, but his father is a homophobic alcoholic and his mother is either dead or blowing men for cocaine. He doesn’t care. He shouldn’t care bout Elijah, either, and he knows it.

That thought is all it takes for his eyes to well with tears, bringing back a memory he hasn’t thought of in far too long. He can see it clearly now: the first and last time their father raised a hand to Elijah, all because he protected Gavin for stealing a cupcake. Elijah never cried, he was always the stronger of the two – he took the backhand to his face with a grunt and tight lips, but his expression was cold steel again a moment later.

Elijah snuck food into Gavin’s room and gave him an old portable CD player, helped him shoplift discs from the record store so no one would suspect a thing. He was the big brother, he always looked out for Gavin – and then he was busy, too busy with his robots and assignments, too responsible to steal and lie, too good to keep a secret.

“He’s still my brother,” Gavin insists, forcing back his tears as Tina’s arm wraps around his shoulder. “I just want him to give a shit. He never forgot, Teeny, he never…”

“Let him go. You don’t need him. Look how far you’ve come without him, look at everything you’ve achieved.” Firm and insistent, she holds him tight and presses their heads together. “He hasn’t done shit for you, not since he told on you. Don’t let him ruin what you have now – you have me and Chris, you have Niles and, shit, even Fowler’s got your back.”

Gavin chokes out a laugh, although it’s more self-deprecating than anything. “ _Fuck_. I haven’t kept in touch, he’s gonna be so pissed.”

“Oh, yeah. Since when are you the guy who ditches his friends for a hot piece of ass?” Tina teases, giving him a loving squeeze. Gavin playfully elbows her ribs so she’ll stop.

“Fuck off. I’m- I’m good, I’ll make it up to him.”

“I know. Don’t let Elijah fuck you up, you’ve got a good thing going here.” She retracts her arm from his shoulder, but only to mess up his hair. They end up wrestling again, falling off the couch and grappling until Gavin’s head makes a close encounter with the coffee table and they decide to settle down.

He doesn’t know if she hears him when he says _thank you_ , but it doesn’t matter. She knows.

Tina doesn’t stay for more than a few hours this time. They end up watching reruns on HGTV after dinner, sharing a carton of white tea without bothering to use cups. After she leaves, Gavin is left staring at his phone and wondering which mistake he should make. He chooses the smaller one.

He writes and deletes several messages, then forces himself to send one before the anxiety can consume him. It reads _I’m 34_ , with no context or explanation, and he feels like an absolute idiot.

Gavin doesn’t expect the reply to come so soon, but the device vibrates while still in his hand and the notification from Niles only asks if he means _today_. Warmth building in his chest, he writes back immediately.

 _Yesterday_.

 _I’m thirty since August 15 th_, Niles replies, and Gavin wonders how he never suspected the man of being younger than himself. With that much of a pretty face, it’s really all confidence making him seem older.

That’s not the biggest revelation here. Gavin feels immense relief when Niles doesn’t press him for answers, doesn’t ask why he didn’t mention his birthday or congratulate him for the date. He’s accepting Gavin’s time and space, and all those thoughts of going too fast melt away.

Now Gavin finds himself stuck as he thinks of a way to reply. He wants to say _I want to see you again_ , ask Niles if he wants to spend Friday night with him, but that’s beyond his personal comfort.

 _Come with me to the Eastern Market on Saturday_.

Niles beats him to it. Gavin grins and rolls over onto his back, thinking of walking beside his partner through the market as they taste fresh fruit and smell the intoxicating aroma of baked goods, feeling the warmth of the morning sun on a chilly autumn day.

For all his excitement, the only thing he can reply with is _sure_. It’s too little, but he hopes Niles will understand his urge to hold back – and he does, if the sweetly uncharacteristic heart emoji he replies with is anything go to by. Gavin decides to indulge in one little sweet gesture, sending him a proper _good night_ before shutting off to sleep.

Friday is uneventful, giving Gavin the time he needs to message Fowler a proper apology for his disappearance and ask about setting up a meeting between the two of them and Tina. He eats lunch with Chris and spars with Allen, makes his waxing appointment just in time, then ends the day texting Niles and setting up the time and exact place for their date the following morning. He falls asleep feeling fresh and excited, hugging a pillow to his chest, smiling to himself until the nightmares take over.

He’s up bright and early on Saturday, picking out a gray shirt to go with his dark jeans. Before he even goes downstairs for a cup of coffee, he empties most contents from his bag: his laptop, tablet, protein bars, pistol, anything unnecessarily heavy for a date. On second thought, he puts his pistol back in, wrapped carefully in a shirt for discretion and protection.

Two cups of coffee are enough to get him going, and he skips breakfast for the promise of fresh food at the market – if there is nothing else for him, there will be fruit, but he knows where to find that hippie-looking middle-aged woman who sells vegan bread if she’s still around.

Gavin is lucky enough to find a good parking spot in one of the lots off Wilkins Street when he pulls up to the market, the sun still barely cresting over the buildings to illuminate the streets. He pulls his jacket tighter around himself, zips up the front and makes his way to the stands. He’s utterly unprepared for the sight of Niles waiting for him, wearing his leather jacket over a black turtleneck and holding an empty shopping wagon.

The ordinary domesticity of their relationship is once again evident, and Gavin fights back against the butterflies in his stomach as he walks up to his boyfriend with a grin.

“It’s fucking freezing,” he says as a greeting, because there is no other way to hide his softness. Niles turns to him with that barely-there smile and Gavin might as well be butter on hot toast.

“Would you like me to return your jacket?” he asks, already moving to slip it off his shoulders, but Gavin shakes his head.

“Nah. It looks better on you, anyway.” Gavin doesn’t mean it as a compliment, but that’s exactly what it is. He feels color rise to his cheeks as he averts his gaze. “So, uh, what’re we doing?”

“I thought of sharing breakfast and, if you don’t mind, shopping for fresh produce so I may cook for us today.” It may be Gavin’s mind playing tricks on him, but Niles almost sounds nervous. Knowing he’s not the only one unsure of himself gives Gavin a slight bit of additional confidence.

“You inviting me over?” He can tease and play this way, demonstrate affection without being too open. He accentuates the question with a light, playful punch to Niles’s shoulder, only grinning wider when he gets shoved back as a response.

“I may be,” Niles replies, one eyebrow raised as his own smile becomes more perceptible. He extends a hand down the pathway of the market and Gavin takes the lead, then slows down to let Niles walk beside him as the wheels of the shopping wagon move noisily against the ground.

Their hands brush once or twice, but neither of them tries for more than that. Gavin leads Niles to the stand he’s thankful still exists, greeting the woman with a bright smile and an order of fresh bread, still soft and hot in the paper bag. She talks him into buying jam to go with it – organic, low sugar, made from the fruits she picked herself.

That’s their breakfast, sitting down on benches in the morning light and smearing jam over slices of bread. Gavin wishes he had the courage to breach the space between them and press himself against Niles’s side, but this is still nice. He sneaks in a touch when he grabs Niles’s hand to steal the last bite of his bread, which is enough.

They walk around slowly after eating, having tucked the leftover bread and jam jar into the corner of Niles’s wagon. There are many vendors at the market selling fresh fruits and vegetables, and Niles asks Gavin what his preferred meals and combinations are as they shop.

“I have never tried dragon fruit,” Niles comments as he spots the offensively pink pitaya. Gavin frowns.

“It’s good. It, uh, loosens up your insides so you’d better not eat too much, but this is probably imported and not organic. It’s not the season for ‘em.”

“I see. I don’t have the best knowledge when it comes to unusual fruit.”

“Dragon fruit comes from a cactus,” Gavin explains, feeling every bit like the nerd his brother is. “It’s a summer fruit. I bet these are from, like, South America or something – but it’s not high summer there either, so they might be bland. I prefer buying things in season, and local is always better.”

Niles looks impressed, and Gavin does his best to change the subject as he spots thick, healthy heads of broccoli with tightly-packed buds and a deep green color. They buy two of them and move on, and Gavin is careful enough not to go on any more educational tangents as they pass another exotic fruit stand.

Once the wagon is filled with winter produce, squash and sweet potato chief among them, perfect for hearty soups, Gavin and Niles wander back outside into the sunny flower section. It may be the most embarrassing action of his day, but Gavin picks out a violet for his desk at work and doesn’t argue when Niles offers to pay for it.

Their last purchase is fresh tea – green for Niles, black for Gavin. They drink as they walk back to Niles’s car, where Gavin helps him load the trunk with their shopping and steals a chaste kiss in the privacy behind the door.

“I’ll see you at home,” Niles says, his fingers tracing the back of Gavin’s hand before they close the trunk and put a safe, respectful distance between their bodies.

“Yeah.” Gavin smiles crookedly and waves as he steps backwards. He only turns around when he stumbles on a rock in the parking lot, and it’s a struggle not to run back to his car. He hasn’t had a date this nice in years.

He arrives only minutes after Niles, in time to help him unload the shopping. Gavin balances the heaviest bags on his forearms and sets them on the counter until he finds out where each item goes, and the violet he bought is already there, carefully removed from the unhealthy environment of a closed car so it may thrive.

Gavin runs the pad of his finger over one fuzzy leaf and hopes Traci won’t mind having yet another thing to look after. He startles when arms encircle his waist, but Niles hums low in his chest and presses close, reminds him of the safety and care they’re cultivating between them.

“Hey, babe,” Gavin says, leaning back into his partner’s strong chest. The pet name doesn’t sound as bad the second time around. “Did you get everything?”

“Yes. Thank you for joining me this morning.”

“Yeah… yeah, thanks for asking me.” Placing his hand over Niles’s own, Gavin closes his eyes and sighs happily. “This is good.”

Niles doesn’t reply, but Gavin feels those soft lips brush the side of his neck. They stand there together for a blissful, silent few minutes, and it’s almost imperceptible when they begin swaying. Gavin only notices when Niles’s hands move down to his hips, and the humming he’s hearing registers as music.

“What are we doing?” he asks, soft and low, unable to stop himself from moving along.

“Enjoying the morning,” Niles responds, nosing at the back of his ear and humming the last notes of his song. Gavin feels his heart hammer in his chest even as his partner releases him and steps away. “Would you join me for a run?”

“I don’t think I have clothes for that,” Gavin replies, turning around with his face still red from the sweetness of the intimate moment they just shared. “And anything you have is not gonna fit.”

“I should have made my intentions clear over text. Forgive me,” Niles says, too serious for Gavin not to break into a smile. “We may walk instead, if you’ll indulge me.”

“Sounds good.” In a moment of bravery inspired by his overflowing heart, Gavin steps forward and braces his forearms on Niles’s shoulders, leaning up to press their lips together. “You are such a fucking sap.”

“For you? I may be,” Niles agrees, and the kiss they share is too soft and chaste to be anything less than romantic. Gavin breaks it to hide his face against Niles’s chest.

They do eventually break apart to go on their walk. Gavin leaves his hoodie and backpack behind by the couch, his leather jacket carefully folded there after Niles removes it. They warm up slowly, stretch before leaving the house, and then spend a good hour and a half enjoying the neighborhood as Niles points out his favorite spots and sights.

Gavin expects the surreal, floating feeling to have an abrupt end, but instead he finds himself in the kitchen cleaning squash as Niles separates ingredients for a soup base. They cook together, eat together, and end up on the couch arguing over whether they should watch cooking or renovation shows until they settle on Treehouse Masters as a compromise.

As they watch these men building elaborate treehouses, Gavin begins to believe the depth of Niles’s affection. There’s not a moment where the other man’s hands leave his body, but none of the touches are sexual. One palm slides up the inside of Gavin’s shirt, slow and gentle, and the skin on skin contact is just a comforting reminder of how safe he is here.

They make it through four whole episodes before Gavin starts complaining about the reality show formula without pretty faces to distract him from it, and Niles excuses himself to answer the telephone. That leaves Gavin alone in the living room and, as is his nature, he begins to explore.

There are few pictures, but Gavin focuses on the one that shows Niles with Connor – it can only be Connor, their faces are too similar for the man to be anyone else. Niles wears his little half-smile, but his brother grins openly and looks into the camera with sparkling brown eyes. Gavin thanks his lucky stars his boyfriend does not look that gelastic.

He goes through the bookshelves next, tuning out Niles’s voice in the background as he browses the titles of several classics he pretended to read in high school, some novels he knows from Elijah’s bedroom shelf, and newer ones he has no idea about. One in particular stands out to him – a thick, heavy tome titled Shantaram, with white patterns over a golden cover. He pulls it out and finds even more details in the design.

" _It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured_ ,” he reads out loud, torn between the feeling of cold water washing over him as his own darker moments resurface and the thought that this quote is entirely too pretentious. He almost drops the book when he hears Niles hum only a step behind him. “Shit, Ni, warn a guy!”

“Sorry, sweetheart. You seemed distracted; I did not want to interrupt.” Niles reaches forward and takes the books from his hands, thumbing through the pages. Gavin spots flashes of color, highlighted lines that would make his brother cringe at the unholy defiling of the sanctity of literature.

“Is that any good? It’s fucking huge.”

“It has good quotes,” Niles replies, landing on a page with blue highlights and looking down. Gavin notices he seems worried, distant, and wonders if he should not have been snooping around. “This one. _Love is the opposite of power. That’s why we fear it so much_.”

Gavin swallows and nods his agreement, finding it hard to choose the appropriate words to reply with. He wonders if Niles feels as powerless as he does, as lost as he is in the days they’re apart. He’s opening his mouth to attempt a reply when Niles speaks again.

“Connor’s coming over. I hope you don’t mind, there was- ah, an unexpected turn of events.”

“I can go,” Gavin says, relieved for the change of subject. He steps out of the way for Niles to place the book back on the shelf.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make this up to you, but he needs me now.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all good. Don’t worry.” Gavin smiles, but Niles sees right through it. A soft hand on his cheek, a press of their lips, and Gavin allows his sadness to show. “I’m gonna be fine.”

“I know, sweetheart. Thank you.”


	12. The Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected. Sorry about the delays, work truly impeded my creative freedom these past three weeks. I hope y'all enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think.

“I thought,” Connor starts, pausing right there to think. His expression is not blank in his usual, thoughtful distance – no, it’s forced. He’s forcing himself to suppress anger and immeasurable pain, and Niles knows that look too well. “I thought Hank would be different.”

 _Ah_. Niles has been with Connor through all of his ups and downs; too many of the latter have come from men rejecting Connor for his line of work or choice of dress. He doesn’t see this story being much different, but Connor seems more affected, more withdrawn even as his knuckles are turning white where he’s gripping his knees.

The silence draws on. Niles won’t ask, he knows better. He pours hot water over chamomile tea bags and allows the smell to ease his mind as Connor tries to process the situation. Now that Niles can look at him closely, sitting across from him at the kitchen table, he sees a slight redness to his eyes and the cracks on his lower lip. Glancing down, he sees imperfections on the usually manicured hands – Connor’s been biting the skin around his nails.

A soft sound comes from Connor’s throat, and Niles thinks this is it. It’s not. The tea steeps and he removes the bags; the tea cools enough to be drinkable and then some more. Niles takes slow sips of his own as Connor stares deep into the mug placed in front of him, as if the liquid could reveal answers.

“Shit,” Connor finally breathes, moving his tense hands from his legs up to wrap around the mug. Niles waits patiently, knowing it’s coming. “Shit. I don’t even know how this started.”

This could refer to Connor’s romantic feelings or simply to the sexual aspect added to their dynamic. Niles is sure he’ll find out soon. He takes another sip of his tea.

“I should know better by now.” It’s self-deprecating and exactly what’s expected of a pair like them. Niles considers his course of action and reaches across the small table to cover Connor’s wrist with his hand.

“You can’t rationalize emotions that way,” Niles says, and for a moment Connor’s life comes back into his eyes. It’s the best way for it to happen, an incredulous look that speaks volumes. _Look who’s talking_ , that’s what he wants to say. “I know. We have both made mistakes when it comes to processing and expressing our emotions.”

“Your mistake turned out just fine.” Connor’s voice is sad, but not for Niles – no, he can tell there’s an underlying sweetness, some hope for Niles even when there is none for himself.

“Con,” Niles starts, giving his twin’s wrist a gentle squeeze. “Gavin and I have seen each other three times, and two of them began with dangerously unstable mental states. We are not _fine_ by any definition of the word. We might get there, but these things take work, and it’s never worked before.”

“You’re fine from where I stand. _All I do_ is try to make it work, and I thought Hank was- this is stupid.” Connor doesn’t have to say it out loud for Niles to understand _. I thought he was the one_. “Usually it’s the client who gets carried away, who thinks his sugar baby is into him when we’re just doing our jobs. I played myself.”

“You’re not upset because you got involved and he didn’t return your feelings.” Niles knows it’s perhaps too soon, too harsh, but Connor is still skirting around the point of this conversation. They share a tense look and Connor nods his head.

The silence returns and, with it, the weight of Connor’s feelings. His face finally shifts into something resembling human emotion – a flash of anger in his eyes, a downward curl of his lips, his chin jutting upward for the smallest fraction of a second. That expression relaxes into sadness, a well of pain deep enough both of them can drown in.

“He returns my feelings,” Connor confesses, which alarms Niles more than anything. If this is not about unrequited love, it means the problem runs much deeper, and he does not want to start digging that hole. “He said- in another life, perhaps.”

“Is he that arrogant?” Niles asks, that being the only clear reason for such a response, but Connor shrugs. _It’s complicated_. “I need to know what’s going on.”

“Hank has issues.” The way Connor’s lips form around the words make Niles think of Greek theater, the clash of masks that represent comedy and tragedy. “He doesn’t think highly of himself; he has his own ghosts. He doesn’t want me around Cole, though, he said I’d be- that _someone like me_ would give his kid a bad example.”

 _Someone like me_ could mean many things, but Niles has learned it often means _a sex worker_. Sometimes it’s more than that, a nice bundle of things they should be ashamed of: someone too loud about their sexuality, someone unwilling to conform to the molds people with _real jobs_ need to conform to, someone with their set boundaries and desires.

“And it wouldn’t look good,” Connor continues, drumming the blunt tips of his fingers against the side of his cooling mug. “He has to maintain his image. If anything like this came out, it would be bad.”

Niles retracts his hand and finishes his tea. He stands to place the empty mug in the sink, turns to lean back against the counter as he observes his brother. Connor doesn’t sound like he’s justifying what Hank did. No, he’s only parroting his words now, it’s clear he doesn’t share the same beliefs.

Connor’s hands tighten again, Niles can tell by the contrast of white and red skin as it’s pressed violently against the porcelain. There’s a storm coming.

“My choice of work was never an issue when it came to him getting what he wanted; I listened and cared for him, I encouraged him to be better, I even slept with him- _God_ , what was I thinking? Now he sees me the same way mother did.”

 “ _Does_.” Niles grows more concerned when Connor does not bother to glare at him for the insensitive correction. Most of what he has to say will come out harsh and unkind towards the object of his brother’s affections; it’s the love he has for Connor that steers him away from those words. “Is he aware of your monoamorous tendencies?”

“I told him I wasn’t sleeping with anyone else.” There’s a dangerous pause, an unfinished quality to that sentence. Niles hears the _but_ coming before Connor realizes it himself. “But he seemed to think I was lying, that-“

Niles knows Connor won’t venture into the territory of diminishing others to raise himself up, but Amanda’s word from ten years ago rings loud in the silence between their voices. _Whore_. A new flare of anger shoots through Niles as he thinks about how consistently Connor has been on the receiving end of such harsh words, how he’s suffered the brunt of it despite Niles being the degenerate in the family.

“What right does he have?” Connor asks the quiet around them, asks without wanting an answer. His anger is showing now, voice louder and sharper. “I asked for a real date, not a formal introduction to his child and an adoption letter. I don’t want to intrude on his family, I just want to be with _him_. He’s not exactly father of the year, either, he has no right to talk to me about being a role model when he spends more time _hiding from his son_ than doing any _real fucking parenting_.”

Later on, when his blood no longer boils at the mere thought of Hank, Connor will retract his words and apologize for his harshness. He knows what Hank has been through – knows that he can never understand the unimaginable pain and guilt he carries – and that he is trying his best, he is providing love and comfort for Cole, he is a good father within the realm of possibility.

Now the hurt is too fresh, the anger it causes overflowing, and he cannot stop even as Niles steps forward to place a steadying hand on his shoulder. Connor doesn’t seem to notice – he talks about Hank’s twisted perception of reality due to his money, about how he’d never be able to see Connor’s position with fairness, about how he had the audacity to diminish his work and attack his morals and then turn around and ask _if they are still on for lunch on Tuesday._

“Are you going to see him again?” Niles is fearful of the answer; he knows Connor’s prone to giving himself over to impossible causes. He only pretends not to notice his twin is still in contact with their mother, files it away in the darkest corner of his mind to prevent an ugly confrontation.

“Lunch. Tuesday.”

“Con, you do not need-“

“What don’t I need, Niles?” Connor turns to him then, looking up with dark eyes and a tongue dripping with venom. “I don’t need his money, is that it? Because from where I stand, I am a thirty-year-old male sugar baby toeing his expiration date, and I won’t be able to afford living into old age if I don’t put out for some geriatric viagroid soon enough. Hank may have turned out to be an asshole, but he doesn’t- he never forces me into anything, and he pays well.”

“There are other ways.” Niles swallows his guilt, swallows the sound of Amanda’s voice in his head telling him he doomed his brother. “You have Martha, and while the other clients don’t have quite as much money, you do have other regulars. You said he taught you how to invest and plan your finances; what else do you need him for?”

Connor’s face does not soften when his eyes spill with tears. It’s still hot rage behind the brown of his irises, the kind that is born from the perfect balance of loss and humiliation. Niles pries the now cool tea from his brother’s tight hold, pours it out into the sink, then returns to sit with him in silence.

There are stages to this. Silent tears, choked sobs, Connor’s fist coming down on the table with enough force to ring loudly around them. Niles does not know how long he sits there and waits for Connor to cry it out, only that his twin is eventually spent and pliant enough to be moved away from the kitchen. They settle on the couch but leave the television off.

They share the silence without the usual comfort, breaking it intermittently for short conversations about anything else – Connor asks about Gavin and about work, Niles asks about their friends from Jericho. The most comfortable topic they find is the upcoming wedding, which Connor tells him is expected to happen mid-2016. Connor isn’t upset that Markus did not choose him to be the best man; no one expected but everyone hoped it would be Leo.

Connor pulls out his phone and swipes at the screen until Niles leans over to see the game he’s playing: some colorful monstrosity with assorted sweets. Knowing that not much he says will change the course of the future, Niles turns to his own small screen.

 _I apologize for the abrupt end to our day together_ , he writes Gavin, still watching his twin from his peripheral vision. _Allow me to make it up to you_.

 _Don’t sweat it_.

Gavin doesn’t make it easy. Niles sighs softly, apologetically, and Connor looks up at him as he types another message. _I cannot spare my Sundays, but I would enjoy spending Monday night with you_.

“Did I ruin your date?”

“We had a good, full day together. You ruined nothing.” Niles smiles, that brief and subtle upward tilt to his lips. Connor is unconvinced.

“I should have waited for tomorrow, _shit_.”

“Connor, no.” Niles sets his phone down on one of the cushions and turns sideways to face his brother. “Sundays are our days, but you can come to me at any time. I may be with Gavin, with North, at work – if you need me, you come to me. You are my priority.”

He thinks Connor is going to argue, as usual. He’ll say he has Markus, Simon and Josh to go to, say he can call Daniel if things get bad, bring up anyone else he can turn to in these times of need. Instead, he nods silently and presses forward to embrace Niles.

It’s not the longest or strongest hug, only enough for both of them to know where they stand. Together to the end. Connor turns back to Candy Crush and Niles settles into a pleasant back-and-forth with Gavin, who agrees to stay in Monday night and watch bad television over Niles’s promise of picking up spinach and almond ricotta puff pastry triangles for them to snack on.

Connor sleeps in Sunday morning and Niles uses his time alone to double up on his run, braving the fifty-five-degree air and returning home dripping sweat but shivering from the early frost.

He spends the remainder of the day distracting Connor, indulging his sweet tooth and forcing him out of the house to prevent wallowing and spiraling. They share lunch at the Potato Place on Warren Avenue, where Connor orders an overflowing dish of baked potatoes with eggs, bacon, cheese, mushrooms, and enough add-ons to make the sight of it nauseating. Niles keeps his order simple: a roast beef deli-style sandwich. They share a strawberry lemonade and Niles only watches Connor devour a cookie sundae, wondering how so much food fits inside him.

The afternoon is taken up by a visit to the Detroit Institute of Arts, where Niles feels comfortably isolated in the crowd and Connor loses himself in the art. It’s a temporary reprieve from reality, one Niles will gladly take for his brother.

Dinner is pizza from Domino’s, a humbling reminder of their origins a decade past. It serves to strengthen Niles’s belief that quality food is worth its cost, the final deciding factor being his difficulty swallowing a crust so doughy and unsatisfying.

For the second night in a row, Niles doesn’t complain about Connor stealing his blankets. It’s enough of a victory that they both make it to bed without Connor’s second emotional breakdown landing them on the couch. Still, as he lays there and watches the impression of shadows on the ceiling, Niles thinks this may be one of the last times they share a bed. Gavin will have that spot soon, and Connor will be sent to the guest room every Sunday.

His heart is warm with the thought of waking up next to Gavin, of holding him close on winter nights, but he doesn’t dwell on the thought for long. Connor snores and rolls and Niles remembers this is the _first week_ of his relationship; he can’t criticize Connor’s rapid emotional attachment if he’s just as taken for his man.

Connor hugs him before he leaves, promises he’ll keep in touch during the week and update him on dealings with Hank. It’s impossible to convince him to call off the date, so Niles gives up trying. He makes himself coffee from Gavin’s favorite blend and goes for a run before work.

Between his worry over Connor and the anticipation to see Gavin later in the day, Niles is thankful for lighter scenes. The first client is a young woman who is only now discovering herself, so he guides her through with a calm but firm hand. The second is a pup who needs entertainment and leadership, which Niles gladly provides as they play. At the end of the day, he only has to clean a few ropes and toys before leaving the studio.

He picks up the savory pastries from a vegan café on the drive home and messages Gavin to let him know he has everything ready. He won’t mention how he tries to arrange the pastries carefully on a decorated plate, how he realizes he’s trying far too hard and places them all back in the box from the café, rinsing every trace of the crumbs from the plate.

Gavin arrives after sunset with an overnight bag slung over his shoulder, his hair still damp from showering. It’s a warm night, so he’s wearing only a V-neck shirt with his blue wash jeans. Niles greets him with a kiss and takes his bag, setting it down on the edge of the couch.

Niles shouldn’t feel as romantic as he does when they sit together on the couch, Gavin leaning back against his shoulder with a strong hand on Niles’s thigh. All they do is watch reality television – not about food, much to his disappointment – and eat their now-cold pastries. It’s the kind of simple domesticity he never thought possible for himself, though, and that fills his heart with joy. The arm stretched behind Gavin’s body dips below his shoulders, hand cupping his ribcage and pulling him closer.

When the food is gone and they start to yawn, Niles allows Gavin to be the first to use the bathroom as he prepares the bed and drops Gavin’s bag off in the bedroom. Niles pats him gently on the ass as they separate, startling a laugh from Gavin and prompting himself to smile.

The temperature is bound to drop during the night. Niles folds up his heavier blanket and sets it at the foot of the bed, ready to be pulled up should they require it. He smooths out the pillows and rolls back the sheets, considers turning on the heat just in case and ultimately decides against it.

“Change out of those jeans,” Niles instructs as Gavin walks into the bedroom. He takes a moment to observe his partner before chuckling and raising a hand to wipe some toothpaste foam from his chin. “I will return in a moment.”

“I’m dating a fucking commercial break.” Gavin laughs and wipes his own chin, even if it’s now clean. Niles hears him unbuckle his belt and slide down his zipper as he leaves the room.

Niles is practical and efficient in preparing for bed: toilet, wash hands, brush, floss. He washes his face with Connor’s fancy glycerin liquid soap and adjusts his hair back into place, knowing full well it will be a mess come morning.

In the bedroom, he finds Gavin already under the covers, reading through what Niles assumes are work e-mails. He slips in behind him so his chest is pressed to Gavin’s back, placing a dry kiss against the side of his neck.

“Sweetheart.”

“You gonna be bummed if I tell you I’m tired?” Gavin asks, going for a joke but missing it completely. Niles smiles against his skin and wraps an arm around his boyfriend’s middle.

“Not at all.” Kissing up Gavin’s neck, Niles noses at the back of his ear. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

“What’s with that?” Gavin finally puts his phone down, turning rather awkwardly to look at Niles over his shoulder. Niles takes the opportunity to press their lips together for a fraction of a section. “I’m not mad at you, Ni. Why wouldn’t I come?”

“I upset you.” Niles knows he’s making a tempest in a tea pot, but being the cause of Gavin’s discomfort unsettles him. He’s able to smile when Gavin turns in his arms, one hand caressing Niles’s jaw.

“It was a bummer to have to go home, yeah. I don’t care. Your brother needed your help, and I may not have that with Eli, but you bet your ass I’d run to Tina if she called me like that.”

“Thank you for understanding.” Niles kisses him slow and chaste, sliding one of his legs between Gavin’s own. He wants to say more, to say so many things now that his heart has been ripped open in different ways. Instead, he drifts off to sleep with Gavin in his arms and all other worries in the back of his mind.

Gavin’s alarm wakes him. Niles releases his hold only long enough for his boyfriend to turn and swipe at his phone for it to be quiet, and then embraces him again to hide his face in Gavin’s strong and very warm chest. The room is cold, so cold compared to the previous night. Gavin seems to think the same, as he tugs the thin blankets up until even his face is halfway covered.

“Don’t wanna work,” Gavin complains, hiking one leg up around Niles’s waist. Both of them know they can reach for the heavier blanket, but that means facing the cold air for at least two seconds and neither is brave enough.

“Mhn.” Niles can only respond with that sound, half-asleep and mostly comfortable, shivering when Gavin’s cold knee brushes the exposed patch of skin where his shirt rode up.

“D’you have a scene today?”

Niles curses himself for landing a boyfriend with this much brainpower this early in the morning. He yawns and thinks about the day, trying to clear the dream fog from his mind. “I believe so.”

“That’s very professional of you, Ni,” Gavin teases, and Niles would push him away if he weren’t a big, burly source of heat. He pinches Gavin’s stomach instead, drawing a startled sound from him. It’s immediately followed by soft laughter.

“It’s late.” Niles settles in, closing his eyes and rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric of Gavin’s shirt. “At night. Not something to worry about now.”

“Sleep a little more. I’m gonna check my e-mails and get ready.”

Niles makes a low sound in protest and tightens his hold on Gavin, but there’s nothing he can do to prevent his partner from untangling their legs and rolling over. Niles accepts his fate and presses against Gavin’s back instead, curled completely under the blankets. He can’t see the screen of Gavin’s phone light up, but he can hear the light taps of his fingers against the electronic keyboard as he answers messages.

He drifts off again, a shallow and dreamless sleep. In this state, he’s aware of the fact he’ll have to be up and facing the cold soon, aware of Gavin in his arms, almost waking with every new movement of the muscles under his arm. It’s still restful.

Eventually, Gavin slips away and Niles forces himself to rise. Gavin changes quickly into his daywear, Niles slips on a thick black turtleneck sweater and a pair of socks. Gavin seems intent on organizing his belongings first, so Niles is the first to the bathroom. He relieves himself and fixes his hair, splashing cold water on his face before clearing the way for his boyfriend. They share a chaste kiss in the doorway as Niles makes his way downstairs to prepare breakfast.

Being alone in the kitchen brings back the thoughts of Connor and Hank, of their ill-advised lunch date and everything that can go wrong. Connor’s not helpless and he doesn’t need Niles fighting his battles, so there’s no option of taking up arms and cutting Hank out himself – not if he wants to preserve his proximity with his twin. The idea of someone treating him that way and still being awarded his time, though, leaves a sour taste in Niles’s mouth.

He focuses on putting on a pot of coffee and preparing the food, wishing he could provide something more elaborate than fruit and honey. It’s not enough to distract him and it’s definitely not enough to impress Gavin, even though Niles knows he doesn’t need to do that. He plates two shallow bowls and reminds himself that Connor will be furious if he’s woken up by a call before nine in the morning on an already stressful day.

“What’s eating you?” Gavin asks, and Niles nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden voice. He takes a slow breath and places the bowls on the table, shaking his head. He slips away from his partner to pick up a single mug of hot coffee and hand it over. “Come on, Ni. You can talk to me.”

“Perhaps being romantically challenged is a genetic trait I share with my brother.” It’s not humorous, but he doesn’t blame Gavin for his short, loud burst of laughter. His phrasing is not exactly the most conventional. “Connor has an encounter with the man who hurt him.”

“Aw, fuck.” Gavin’s face turns serious and he reaches out to Niles, placing his free hand on his arm. “Things are bad enough that you’re not hoping they fix shit, huh?”

“I do not believe this man deserves Connor. His actions are hypocritical and he has said hurtful things regarding Connor’s involvement with sex work, I cannot see that person as a suitable match for my brother.”

“I get it. Some asshole is fucking with your brother and it sucks to be helpless. People can change and all that crap, but I doubt some rich fuck will become nice overnight because a twink kept putting out.”

“Gavin,” Niles says, and he sees his partner pale. Those words were true but also incredibly inconsiderate, and Niles falls a little bit more in love. “You should tell that to his face.”

“I would. He’s got you, though, so he’s covered.” Gavin grins, the tension seeming to drain from him as Niles’s indulgence is noticed. “C’mon, the sooner we eat, the sooner you can get all warm and cozy again.”

Niles takes a seat at the table and watches curiously as Gavin drags his chair closer, pushing his bowl until he’s seated beside Niles with their shoulders nearly touching. Gavin has not been one to initiate affection so far, but he seems unperturbed by the idea of proximity.

They eat in relative silence and neither comments on the way Niles spreads his legs just enough for his knee to brush against Gavin’s own. He’s not bothered when Gavin checks his phone mid-breakfast, not even when it rings and he puts the thing on speaker to shove another spoonful of fruit into his mouth.

“Reed, Damian has a bad fever. I’ll try to come in later today, but I need to get him to the hospital and Claire really can’t be late-“

“Chris.” Niles doesn’t scold Gavin for speaking with his mouth full, cheek bulging to one side as he makes room for the air to exit, but he wants to. “It’s fine. I’ll handle it, you just take care of the kid. Don’t bother coming in if he’s not one hundred percent, got it?”

“Oh. Yeah, God, thanks.”

“Why are you still talking to me? Get him to the doctor, shoot me a text when he’s okay.”

There’s a series of relieved _thank you_ s from the other line, and Gavin just shakes his head and taps the red button to end the call as he swallows his mouthful and drowns it with a large sip of black coffee.

“You’ll be alright without him? That was Chris Miller, right?” Niles is still trying to learn the names of Gavin’s employees, hoping he hasn’t butchered this one.

“I’ll be fine. We don’t have much to do today, to be honest, it’s mostly gonna be me checking old spreadsheets and updating client data because they change shit without telling me anything.”

“I see why you need to learn to delegate.” Niles chuckles and traces Gavin’s forearm with his fingers. “Finish your breakfast, darling, you don’t want to be late.”

“Keep calling me that and it’ll be your fault I’m late,” Gavin teases, and Niles seriously considers taking up the not-offer and making a mess of his boyfriend right at the table. Instead, he rolls his eyes and pats him on the wrist.

“Eat.”

Niles is reluctant to pull his hand away, finding comfort in the simple touches they share, but he knows better than to show his cards that way. He finishes his own breakfast and rises to rinse the bowl.

“I plan to look into buying better ingredients so I’m prepared to cook you proper winter food,” he comments, knowing he could have done far better had he been ready. “Maybe I can stop by the market and pick up some more of your bread.”

“You don’t have to,” Gavin says from the table, and Niles can tell his mouth is full again. “I’m good with this.”

“You have better food at your house. I don’t want you to compromise your comfort and diet for me, and I can afford to treat you. Let me.”

“I- you’re not letting me say no, are you?”

“Not to this.” Niles smiles and walks back to him, kissing the crown of his head. “Wouldn’t Ms. Chen threaten me if I left you malnourished at my home?”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

Niles accepts Gavin’s reluctant acquiescence and pulls the now empty bowl from him, rinsing away the honey and fruit juice and setting it down over the other one, stacking them neatly.

The most difficult part of the morning is saying goodbye to Gavin, standing by the open door and feeling the chill of the morning winds as they embrace a final time. Niles almost laughs at the fatalistic nature of his thoughts, turning a temporary parting into a definite ending, but his thoughts are plagued by worry and loneliness. He kisses Gavin deeply and licks the last trace of honey from his lips before sending him on his way.

Sleeping again seems almost impossible, so he brings a blanket down to the couch and curls up with recorded episodes of _Parts Unknown_ and a cup of tea. He ends up closing his eyes and sinking into the cushions not twenty minutes later, just as a menu is being read. The last thing he hears is something about kidneys with mustard sauce.

He wakes again after ten, finding the temperature has dropped instead of risen. Reluctantly, he turns off the television, folds the blanket and goes upstairs to change into his running clothes. It’s only going to get worse from here, but he doesn’t plan to use a treadmill until ice on the roads becomes an issue.

By the time he returns home, the tips of his ears and nose are as red as the apples of his cheeks. It’s a situation not helped by the cold shower he takes to clean up, but he is kind enough to his skin to follow that up with lotion so there will be no cracking or peeling.

He’s uninspired to cook lunch but desperate for something to apply his thoughts to, so he comes up with an all-new marinade for chicken thighs. He also adds turmeric to his rice, a simple touch to make the meal more appetizing as he sits alone in his cold and empty kitchen, in this house that is far too large for him.

Noon rolls around without a single word from Connor. Niles knows better than to message him first, but he leaves his mobile data on in addition to the home Wi-Fi just in case something happens. As the clock hits one, he begins to imagine the worst. Finally, at quarter of two, his phone rings.

“Connor.”

“Hey, Ni.” Connor sounds exhausted, voice hoarse and worn. Niles is immediately worried for both possible causes. “I’m okay.”

“ _Bullshit_.” It’s not his usual language and it sounds absolutely foreign on his tongue, but no other word will do. “You sound terrible. What happened?”

“We had lunch, talked. He apologized for being an ass but then, uh, he kind of doubled down on it. Said I’m one of the only good things in his life – other than, you know, Cole – but that he doesn’t want anything serious, just to keep seeing each other like this.”

“Con, that’s not healthy for you. I know you need stability, but you can’t sacrifice your mental wellbeing for money.”

“I- yeah, I know. I told him I need time, I need to… to think about all of this.” There’s a pathetic little sniffle and Niles is reminded of Connor as a child, the only time his brother was anything less than perfect before their lives went downhill. “I don’t think I can do it. I thought I could, but seeing him today, it was too much.”

“You did the right thing. Step away, deal with your feelings and find support elsewhere.” Niles hates himself for the next part, but he knows it has to be said. North stood by him when he pined for Gavin despite her distaste for men like him. “Then, if you believe it is for the best, you can seek him out again.”

“Yeah… yeah. I, hah,” Connor laughs softly, a pained and self-deprecating sound. “I’m in a Starbucks bathroom because I needed somewhere to cry.”

“Oh, Con.” Niles runs a hand back though his hair, closing his eyes. It hurts to hear his brother this torn by someone else’s actions and views about him. “Do you need me to cancel today’s session?”

“No, no. I meant it when I said I’m okay. I might head over to Jericho, help out where I can, keep my mind busy.” It might be sad to admit that their friends are better comfort than he is, but Niles is used to it. He breathes a silent sigh and prevents himself from arguing that Connor’s mind is always busy, much like his own.

“You are always welcome here.” An invitation is always better than a protest when it comes to his brother. It’s partly bias, because he sees his house as far more homely and comfortable than Connor’s underwhelming apartment, and that is the ultimate reason why most Sundays make use of his large sectional instead of Connor’s small, rough double seat. “I will visit tomorrow if you want me to.”

“We can meet up for breakfast.” Whether Connor says this for Niles’s benefit or because he needs space to himself is unimportant. It’s a boundary being set, one Niles knows to respect. “I’ve been in here for a while now. I should- I’m going to clean myself up and get a coffee.”

“Coffee will increase your anxiety. Please order tea instead, preferably one without caffeine.” Niles can hear Connor’s tired laugh at his predictable reaction, but he doesn’t complain. It’s a far better sound than any other he’s made during this call. “I mean it. Take care of yourself.”

“I will. Call me tonight when you get home.”

“Alright.”

They don’t bother with formal goodbyes. Connor breathes something that might have been _bye_ into the line the second before Niles hears the tone in his ear. He considers simply setting his phone down to dress for his upcoming scene, but a small voice reminds him he no longer has to suffer his worries alone.

He thinks about visiting Gavin, about varying their locations enough that his boyfriend does not feel like his space is being ignored and neglected. It’s a risk, a big one, given that Connor might change his mind and show up at any moment. Niles almost talks himself out of it, but he’s typed and sent the message before he can be convinced.

The phone remains on the coffee table as Niles changes into his suit and fixes his hair. He manages to tame that one stray strand of hair into place, comforted by the hardness it offers his expression as he looks into the mirror. His reflection appears composed and in control, the very image of a man with no anxieties.

Packing an overnight bag only serves to aid his focus. The task can be broken down into a series of small individual actions: fold shirt, roll up pants, bag a toothbrush, slide a comb into the thin pockets, pack a book for good measure. Every little one of those gives him a sense of completion, checking boxes in his mental to-do list.

When his phone is picked back up on his way out the door, the message at the top of the screen makes him smile. Gavin must have had a break from work to answer him, the little yellow thumbs up at the end of his sentence oddly endearing. Niles slips the phone into his pocket and heads to work, clearing his mind of the negative aspects to provide a proper environment for his submissive client.

The hours in the studio are a relief away from real life. Though initially worried about his ability to hold command, Niles falls into the role effortlessly. He draws his usual delight from ordering the man to perform several simple tasks, complicating them by criticizing every aspect of their execution. The scene escalates with the punishment of genital bondage and localized impact play, ending with a tearful and satisfied submissive and a very calm, centered Niles.

Once the aftercare is done and his client vacates the studio, Niles takes the time to hydrate and eat before concluding his cleanup. He sterilizes every used tool and piece of furniture, throws away the disposable latex gloves used in place of his preferred leather, and hangs the rope and flogger back on the wall.

A short conversation tells him Gavin has already treated himself to dinner, so Niles decides to stop by the nearest Chinese restaurant and order a bowl of noodles to fill his stomach. The hot oil and pork make the meal heavier than his usual fare, but the pleasant fullness combined with the heat from the pepper soothes his spirit.

He parks in front of Gavin’s house and calls Connor from the car, ready to change plans at the drop of a hat but hoping it won’t be necessary. Every passing second marks an incremental spike in his returning anxiety, but the call is answered on the sixth ring.

“Hey,” Connor’s voice sounds through the phone, tired and worn but far less pained than earlier in the day. Niles can relax back into his seat and lower his shoulders back into a healthy resting position. “I’m still with Markus, so you don’t have to worry about me doing anything stupid.”

“Are the others with you?” Niles asks, mostly out of curiosity and the instinct to make this conversation about more than Connor’s heartbreak.

“Simon is in the kitchen, North drove Josh to the pharmacy. It seems there’s a new guy working there who refused to give him his testosterone on some made-up excuse, which you know she won’t stand for.”

“She’s furious, isn’t she?” They seem to sigh at the same time, Niles making a mental note to message North when he can. “Rightfully, of course.”

“Yeah. We offered to go along, but Josh was adamant about not scaring the man with two lawyers, North, and Simon looking like he hasn’t slept for the last decade.” There’s a little laugh from Connor’s end of the line, but it dies down quickly. “This is absolute shit. Seems like we’re having a rough week on this end.”

“You’re hardly a lawyer, Con.” Niles smiles as he says it, switching his phone to his left hand to give his right a rest. He flexes his fingers slowly and realizes his grip on the flogger might have been too tight. “Everything will be alright. You know North can solve a problem like no other. As for you, you’ve endured worse in the past and you have a good support network.”

“I know. If I can keep myself busy, I’ll be alright. I can’t get rid of everything yet, the photos and the messages, so I won’t pretend it’s easy. It really helps that I have a wedding to plan and Markus needs me around to help Leo clean up.”

“I’m proud of you for recognizing your limits and stepping away this time.” The words weigh on Niles’s tongue and he feels saddened by his inability to say the exact same thing more often, by the distance Connor still keeps when he fears the descent from star child into disappointment. For all of his glamour and posturing, he’s still a nervous young man navigating a dangerous world.

“I couldn’t do it without you.” There’s a silent pause in which Niles allows his brother’s words to soothe him, to act as a bandage over the sting left behind by their mother. “Ni, I have to go. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Be safe. Good night, Connor.”

“Good night.”

Silence takes over as Niles lowers his phone onto his lap. He glances at the house, seeing the living room light shine through the curtains and wondering what Gavin might be doing inside as he waits. He smiles softly at the thought of spending a quiet night in with his boyfriend, something they’ve already done far more frequently in one week than most new couples.

He types a short message to North and pulls his bag onto his shoulder from the passenger seat. Checking that nothing essential is left behind in the car, he exits and locks the vehicle. He rings the doorbell only once despite the lack of a response, standing patiently in front of the door. There’s a distant, unidentifiable sound, followed by a plastic crash and some muffled cursing. When Gavin opens the door in his sweatpants and old hoodie, his hair sticks out at odd angles without having completely dried from his shower.

“Hey, Niles. Sorry about that, I forgot my headphones were plugged in and I almost totaled my gaming system.” Gavin laughs and shifts his weight, that crooked grin never failing to charm Niles. It may be the most ridiculous thing such an alert person could do, to be unaware of their surroundings to that degree, but he supposes it’s a good sign.

“That’s perfectly fine. I do hope you avoided damaging both yourself and the equipment.” Niles adjusts the strap of his bag and glances inside, which seems to give Gavin the clue that they shouldn’t simply stand there in the cool air.

Walking into the living room, Niles sees the television on and hooked onto a video game console he had not noticed before. All he can identify is a scarred man and something about witches before Gavin saves and exits the game. He flicks off the television and turns back to Niles.

“I don’t, uh, play much. Not these kinds, anyway, but this one is new and Chris said he really liked it, so I’m giving it a try.”

“I admit I know nothing about this or most other games,” Niles replies with an indulgent smile, taking Gavin’s hand and pressing their palms together. “What do you usually play?”

“Mostly kid’s stuff, like Mario and Smash Bros. It’s what Tina and I play when we get some downtime and neither of us is fucked up or fucked over.”

“I have heard of this Mario fellow. I believe he is a plumber, though I do not see the fun in a video game based on that profession.” Niles does not understand why Gavin pulls away, much less why he doubles over with a hand pressed to his mouth as he tries desperately to suppress laughter. “Gavin?”

“No- shit, fuck, ahah,” Gavin coughs and laughs, looking up at Niles for only a second before his eyes are squeezed shut again and his shoulders shake with the force of his amusement. Niles draws his brows together and tilts his head slightly to the side. “Fuck. Okay, uhm, that’s just the most hilarious fucking thing I’ve heard all week. It’s not really about plumbing, it’s more like- like a plumber ate some mushrooms and had the trip of his life with some turtles and shit.”

“Gavin, you are not making much sense,” Niles says carefully, concerned when his boyfriend follows a bout of laughter with a wheeze and a snort. “I do not see what is so funny.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll, ah, show you some videos sometime.” With a light chuckle, Gavin straightens out again and wipes a tear from his eye, which does not do much to abate Niles’s confusion. It’s not the foremost thought on his mind when Gavin takes his hand once more and initiates a kiss, something Niles thinks he might not yet have done.

This he can understand. Sliding his bag slowly from his shoulder, he sets it on the floor without parting from Gavin. Their bodies press closer together and strong hands slide under his suit jacket, caressing his stomach over the thin black shirt he wears.

“You know,” Gavin says as they break for air, that ridiculous smile still painted on his face. “It’s not a bad thing that you don’t know shit like this. It’s funny as hell, but that’s because you’re sort of the odd one out.”

“I have had a very limited exposure to popular culture. It doesn’t exactly bother me, so there’s no need for comfort.” Niles brings his hand up to the side of Gavin’s neck, resting his thumb over the hinge of his jaw. “However, I will not be averse to learning from you.”

“Yeah?” Gavin’s hands travel down to Niles’s belt, simply resting on the leather, and the physical reaction both men have to such close contact is visible. Niles leans in for another kiss, but Gavin pulls back at that moment. “Go brush your teeth, meat breath. I’ll see you in the bedroom.”

“Oh. I am sorry, sweetheart.” Niles consciously directs his breath away from Gavin’s face, placing some distance between them as he leans forward to collect his bag. It’s clear Gavin isn’t truly upset about the aftertaste of his meal, but Niles himself would rather feel clean and fresh before the chance of intimacy.

A few minutes are spent on the process of brushing his teeth and relieving himself, washing his face of the day’s labor before he steps out into the bedroom. His mask of composure gives way to the true vulnerability he feels, and Gavin – already on the bed, having clearly fixed his hair – seems to notice and greet him with more openness than usual.

Niles, changing out of his work clothes, is more than content to lay in Gavin’s arms and share kisses even before their hands wander. Both of them are pent up and exhausted, both finding easy release as they move together. Gavin cleans them up and rests on his back, allowing Niles to take his chest for a pillow.

Their intimacy and his focus from the earlier scene sets a new certainty in Niles’s mind. They can move forward with this relationship and explore the deeper caverns of their trust in each other without waiting for Connor’s life to be on track, or for Gavin’s work to settle and calm.

“Friday,” he says without context, feeling Gavin’s confused grunt more than hearing it. “We can attempt our first scene on Friday, if that is agreeable to you.”

“Ni, I'm not gonna say I don’t want that.” Gavin’s voice is tentative and heavier than usual, Niles can safely assume he’s fighting sleep. “But are you sure about this? You’ve got your head all up in knots.”

“That is precisely why I wish to do this. My mind is always overworking, but it calms when I’m with you. Furthermore, I trust you to stop should I go overboard.”

They haven’t truly talked about the one time Gavin did safeword, not after the air cleared and Niles learned previously unspoken limits. Niles wants, needs to circle back to it, to discuss the trigger and their service scene within the context of their romantic affiliation. It is still enough, for now, to remember Gavin’s honesty about his feelings even in the face of possible rejection.

“Friday, then.” Niles smiles at Gavin’s small affirmation and closes his eyes to sleep as the lights are flicked off. He barely hears the follow-up, the tiny and relieved _thank fuck_ that Gavin whispers.


	13. Watch the River Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter has been incredibly delayed and I apologize. Real life has a knack for getting in the way. I'll try to return to our normal schedule, but I hope everyone will be patient with me if posting is a little more inconsistent. I still love this story and want to see it to the end, so don't fear it'll be abandoned - it will not.
> 
> The original plan was to write part of Friday into this chapter, but it ended up not fitting quite as well. I hope you enjoy a little more slice of life, because chapter 14 is Friday.

Gavin holds Niles as temperatures drop on that Tuesday night, and he dares to think he can be strong and hold the pieces together. The pleasant weight on his chest keeps the worst of his memories at bay through the night, though it can’t truly smother them. He still feels centered when he wakes, alert enough not to fall asleep after he turns off his alarm but calm enough not to hyperventilate after the sound shocks his system.

Niles doesn’t seem to have slept quite as well, a clear indicator being his readiness to rise and dress for the day without any attempt to burrow back into the covers. Gavin wants to reach out and pull Niles back against his body, to find words that may reassure him, maybe even kiss promises into his skin before Niles hides behind one of his clone turtlenecks. He does none of that.

The most he can force himself to do now, in the faint light of day, is brush his fingers against his partner’s lower back and offer a sad, open look when Niles is facing the other way. This early on in the relationship, there are too many unspoken boundaries and Gavin himself has too many walls that can’t yet be torn down. He passes by Niles and closes the door to the bathroom for some privacy.

He’s efficient, as usual, in going through his morning routine. After relieving himself and washing his hands, he shaves back down to his comfortable stubble and rubs his chin to be sure it feels right. Once he’s finished with aftershave and proper oral hygiene, he steps back out to face the day.

It’s not so easy to share breakfast and enjoy his coffee when Niles’s eyes are hollow from the weight on his shoulders, but Gavin wants to try. He can tell – he hopes it’s not his imagination – the way Niles warms and relaxes when they touch, the way he seems willing to give and be vulnerable despite this whole situation being new for both of them.

Gavin wishes he could give that way without the world bearing down on him for it.

Before they both leave, Niles wraps him in another embrace and slides one hand between Gavin’s backpack and his back, tracing the approximate curve of his spine over the layers of clothing he wears. They share slow kisses that taste of coffee and bread and herbal spreads, and Gavin is left wanting more as they part.

Niles picks up his overnight bag and walks slowly back to his car, enough for Gavin to wonder if he's reluctant to leave - or, maybe, if he's just that tired.

It’s only after he reaches the car that he realizes the reason he’s early is because he completely overlooked the daily sunrise ritual of reading and answering his work e-mails before stepping foot in his office. He can’t pinpoint if the lapse is a sign of domesticity or if he simply focused on Niles’s wellbeing more than potential complaints and offers from clients and suppliers. Either way, he takes five minutes to read through Chloe’s daily digest and then forces himself to take the road, trying to push down on the discomfort of this one particular change to his routine.

The idea to kill his thoughts with outside stimuli presents itself when he flicks on the radio, skipping past the news reports on criminals who use skimmers in gas pumps to steal credit card information and the country music stations with songs that hit too close to home, settling on good old-fashioned rock music for the drive. It’s the best he can do if he wants to avoid being judged should anyone else hear what comes out of his speakers.

Gavin knows better, by now, than to ever listen to the words when he wants to quiet his brain. Too many times he’s been caught off guard and rendered useless by a direct blow from a seemingly harmless tune. Instead, he watches the overcast sky slowly change colors. Thinking about Niles, he realizes this is the first time his stomach doesn’t twist with dread when reaching this point in a relationship – and it should, it _really_ should, as it’s only been nine days since they started dating.

Nine days. Gavin wonders if it’s normal to count the days this way, if it’s something he’s going to keep subconsciously clinging to, or if it’s simply because Niles is- Niles is unreal. He’s so lost in thought that reality escapes him for a moment, immediately followed by his foot slamming down on the breaks to prevent a crash when the car in front of him slows unexpectedly.

“God fucking- _get off the road_ , you useless fucking asshole!” The words aren’t quite screamed and there’s no way for the other driver to hear him, but it feels good to get angry. He can understand angry. His hand pushes down on the horn aggressively, allowing it to blare twice before his vision is cleared of its red tint. He almost doesn’t notice his phone vibrating, and chooses not to pay attention to it.

One, two, three. He counts his breaths and uses his turn signal lights to change lanes, resisting the urge to roll down the windows and offer more insults to whoever is driving that badly this early in the morning. He’s thankful now for having grown up in Detroit, with enough awareness of good drivers to become one himself but enough exposure to absolutely terrible drivers to simply accept their existence.

There’s only a lingering wisp of irritation in the back of his mind by the time he’s inside the compound, and it’s gone the moment Chloe sets a fresh coffee on his desk. Gavin sits down and takes the mug in both his hands and exhales slowly.

“It’s so cold today. Do you think it’s gonna be like this all day? I should have pac- brought another long-sleeved shirt or something.”

“The temperature is only fifty degrees, sir, and Traci has already activated the office heating. You should be comfortable in a matter of minutes, though the forecast for today is rather glum.” Chloe slides a folder of documents towards him and stands back from the desk. Gavin wrinkles his nose and wonders how she can be comfortable in a sleeveless dress in this weather, particularly one that stops just below her knees. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you, Chloe.” Gavin reluctantly moves away from the hot mug to reach for his phone and turn on the computer, only then remembering the time. He frowns. “Hey, Chloe, how come you’re here so early?”

“The truth, sir? I was rather restless and North essentially kicked me out so she could sleep,” Chloe says with a lighthearted laugh, looking entirely too rested for her claim. Gavin wonders if makeup can do that. “I thought I could be useful here, and so I was the first one in.”

“Damn. I’m not making you work overtime; you can go home earlier today to make up for coming in so early.” Gavin hopes that doesn’t sound like him being dismissive – apparently it doesn’t, since Chloe thanks him, smiles sweetly and turns with too much grace for someone wearing heels that thin. Gavin bites back a question about how she can do that and instead decides to go through the e-mails he neglected upon waking, intermittently sipping coffee between every forwarded or replied message.

He’s caught up on work by the time the rest of the compound comes alive, and there’s a new stream of e-mails and calls coming in. It’s easy enough to forget about everything else for the moment, even more so when he gets the chance to escape the office for a few minutes and head down to the obstacle course just before Allen puts a new class through it.

Gavin can’t contain the amusement on his face just as Allen raises his voice and begins to instruct the group. Some of them are veterans – Gavin can tell the Marines apart immediately because they _know_ this course; it was modeled after the standard model used for the Marine Combat Conditioning Program. The others who served aren’t far behind them, but those who came from less disciplined backgrounds struggle.

Between the sound of Allen’s voice and the responses, grunts and hard breathing of the class, Gavin almost doesn’t hear Person approach until she’s standing right beside him. Curious, he turns his head slightly to see if she means only to watch or if she wants to talk to him.

“What’s up, Person?”

“Sir,” she replies with a smile, though her eyes remain trained on the course. “You can already see the ones who won’t make it.”

“Heh. Yeah, but some of them can surprise you. You’re not here to drill the rookies, Person, we all know Allen can scare their souls right down to Hell without you lifting a finger. What’s up?”

“Miller and I think it would be interesting if we held a demonstration. A – a competition of sorts, where our men can show the new classes how it’s done. The O course, endurance, shooting, the basics.”

Gavin huffs and crosses his arms, looking back in time to see a man fall from the Log Walk. “You want me to organize an internal event like that? What’s the point? Putting a show using good soldiers won’t teach the green ones anything about reality.”

“It’s not reality, sir, it’s motivation. I appreciate Cain’s methods as much as anyone, but sometimes the men need to see success to know what to strive for. That, and I think you’re only worried about losing to Miller. Sir.”

“Losing to- what are you even _thinking_? He slacks off more than you do. I could outrun him on his own damn course any day of the week.” Gavin shifts his weight from foot to foot, then balances and stands correctly when he remembers he’s in front of new recruits. That doesn’t stop him from twisting his nose at the thought of being publicly bested by a Marine.

“I’m glad to see your enthusiasm for our idea.” With those words and a cheeky smile, she walks past him and joins Allen just as the men move from the Double Pull Over Bar to the Rope Climb. He can see them exchange quiet words, but that only lasts until Allen finds a recruit to _encourage_.

Gavin needs a moment to compose himself and another to keep from laughing. Person roped him right along into her plan, and he can’t deny his excitement for actually participating in such a competition, consequences to his pride be damned. He wonders briefly how Niles would react to seeing that – the closest he’d ever get to being in action again, the last burst of strength he can show before his age catches up to him. That thought is quickly pushed away, because they can’t _ever_ know about Niles.

The last recruit makes it up and down the ropes. Allen tells them to drink water and freshen up, then meets Gavin’s eyes for a second and nods towards him as a sign of respect. Gavin returns the gesture and turns to leave, only barely hearing something about Person leading the next part of their training.

It’s all standard. Gavin doesn’t need to be down here, he doesn’t ever need to interact with their classes or their troops, but he wants to. It’s an exercise in self-control every time he keeps himself from stepping in to lead them. He can practically hear the disapproving voices every time he gets too close.

The elevator ride up is enough time for his brain to reset. He’s thinking about what needs to be done – there’s a client whose contract was sent out almost a week ago with no response and he needs to follow-up with them, there are overseas troops to track, there’s a ring on Traci’s finger. _There’s a ring on Traci’s finger_.

He notices that just as he moves past her desk, doing a visible double-take and stepping back. It’s not an engagement ring, but a simple gold wedding band. She hardly seems to notice him at first, too focused on the supplier she’s currently on call with, but a glance upwards has her placing the call on hold and turning to face him.

“Mr. Reed, is there anything I can help you with?”

“What? No, no, sorry. I forgot what I was going to say,” Gavin replies awkwardly, forcing a smile he has no reason to fake. He’s genuinely happy for her and her girlfriend – _wife_ – despite never having met the other woman. “Mustn’t be important.”

“Oh. Very well.” Traci watches him a moment longer, enough for Gavin to know she’s waiting for him to leave or give her the go-ahead to get back to work.

“Don’t let me bother you any longer.” He waves rather robotically and slips past the glass door into the safety of his office. Traci returns to the conversation, he can hear her voice in the seconds before the door closes, and then he is greeted by peaceful silence.

There was a time when Gavin hated silence. He’s not sure when it changed, but a few possibilities come to mind. Now, sinking back into his comfortable chair, he looks through the messages on his phone in an attempt to delay the inevitable area of his work that demands people skills. There’s a reply from Fowler and a picture from Tina. Unsure of his ability to handle conversation with the Colonel, he opens Tina’s chat.

He doesn’t know who the woman in the picture is or whether she’s related to Tina or not – they don’t look similar enough to be close cousins, if that’s the case, so Gavin simply assumes she’s not family. Still, there is no additional information to give him a clue why this image was sent. It’s nothing extraordinary: a self-shot image of a woman dressed in winter clothes, smiling at the camera. He replies with a question mark and flicks the screen off to work. He can get back to Fowler when his mind isn’t scattered.

Chris walks in sometime during Gavin’s long and exhausting follow-up with the potential client, and Gavin flips him off for quietly laughing at how _visibly painful_ it is to get through the call without insulting the man on the other end. By the time he gives Gavin’s ear a rest, it’s red and marked from the frustrated press of the telephone against it.

“God, I thought he’d never shut up.” Chris laughs in earnest at Gavin’s words, which only really earns him a glare. “Person told me about your plans for some kind of event, to put on a show for the recruits. What’s all that about?”

“That’s what she said, huh? My thought isn’t quite that – I think an internal event could prove motivational, but if we gather a select group of people to compete, we can take it further.” The suggestion isn’t half bad, so Gavin motions for Chris to take a seat and keep on talking. He tries not to think about what it would mean to participate in a more open event, in the vulnerability he’d be exposing. “I thought of organizing a complete event. A competition for our men, a show for some chosen VIP guests. Clients, suppliers, people of interest, you know? You can call it an exclusive demonstration.”

“Shit. You want me to spend big money on these rich fucks?” Gavin asks, and he can tell from Chris’s expression that he’s perhaps not the best person to criticize others for hoarding wealth. He frowns and slumps back against his chair, a low rumble sounding from his chest as he thinks. The idea itself is undeniably good, but there are several complications in organizing such an event as a relatively new company in their industry. They have the money – Attila is successful, benefitting greatly from the tensions in the Middle East – but that doesn’t make every investment worth it.

There are costs to be weighed here, and they go beyond the material. Gavin knows better than to bring a group of civilians into what essentially amounts to a military base, though they can’t legally call it one. At the same time, organizing the event outside of Attila’s grounds means renting and clearing a location, setting up temporary infrastructure, tripling every safety protocol to ensure there are no issues with their firearms. Not only that, they need legal permission for it all.

Gavin can feel the memory of a headache behind his eyes, a telltale sign that his mind is going too fast. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, glances back at Chris and shakes his head.

“This isn’t gonna be easy. I’ll look into it, but you know it’s the kind of thing that could take months, right? Even if we don’t make it huge, it’s going to be a pain.” Thankfully for all parties involved, Gavin’s poor skull being the main victim here, Chris is a reasonable and logical man. Gavin is immediately relieved by his calm smile and understanding nod. “Good.”

“I imagined it would not be a flash event. Planning and organizing an event, selecting the participants, and sending out invitations with enough time for important people to prepare for it, that’s bound to take some time. Have you thought of how we’ll choose the men?”

“Chris, for fuck’s sake. I’ve been thinking about this for a maximum of five minutes, I’m not taking questions.” Gavin groans and shoots him an apologetic look despite his harsh tone, the headache beginning to materialize. So much for not overthinking. “No, I’m not making any decisions this week. I’ll get back to you on this, we should focus on the more pressing work right now.”

He gets no argument from Chris, so the two of them settle into an easy conversation about their new routine. Gavin knows every one of Attila’s operations like the back of his hand and Chris soaks in knowledge as if he were a sponge – few things get past him, and it’s ultimately one of the reasons why Gavin chose him over Person to help lead the company.

The clock turns to noon while they’re engaged in a deep discussion about the inner workings of Attila’s network, the contacts Gavin worked hard to build when he struggled to be civil towards another human without the promise of money. Neither of them notices the time or see Chloe and Traci leaving for their lunch break, not until another half hour passes and Gavin’s stomach complains loudly about the lack of nutrients currently inside of it.

It’s too late for Chris to meet up with anyone else for lunch, so they eat together and Gavin is once again relieved to have someone else who knows one of his secrets and shows no judgment over it. Conversation over the meal eventually circles back to the event that, in Gavin’s mind, is now almost sure to happen. He pushes lentils around his plate and looks across the table with a raised eyebrow.

“By the way, Person mentioned something about us competing in this little game of yours. You sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, his tone a mixture of amusement and caution. Not all of their soldiers understand, but some of them will, and Gavin needs to be sure they’re not going to feed that fire.

“It’s all friendly rivalry, boss.” The way Chris says it is light and easy, but both of them know it’s not the full truth. It’s no matter. They are friends, they can _make it_ friendly. Gavin takes a sip of his drink and tries to push back the pessimist part of his brain, the one constantly reminding him of the underbelly of interservice rivalry. He’s no longer in a position where sustaining such animosities is allowed, and Chris has proven himself a thousand times over.

“So long as everyone else sees that, I’m fine with kicking your ass.” Gavin flashes his teeth in a crooked grin, prompting a laugh from Chris. All worries aside, this is a level of comfort Gavin hasn’t had in a while – someone who isn’t as close as Tina or Niles, but who likes him to some degree. Someone he can spend time with and not carry the intense pressure of always being vulnerable, always being _seen_.

They have to go their separate ways after lunch; Gavin gets pulled into a meeting that is immediately followed by a short-notice video call with government officials whose job titles are not publicly disclosed. He ends up forwarding contracts for reconnaissance and high-profile bodyguard duty, the object to send teams of trained men to protect reporters in hostile environments without direct, traceable ties to the American government.

It’s exhausting work. Gavin’s calm, poised façade crumbles the moment the video cuts off, and he almost collapses forward onto his desk. He wants – he wants to not be here, to not think about legal technicalities and loopholes and budgets for some time. Not for the first time, he closes his eyes and wishes he could open them in a world where gun safety isn’t at the forefront of every other thought, where war and death and tragedy are distant images, ones he only sees on movie screens.

Three seconds in, three seconds out. Five seconds in, five seconds out. One, two, three, four, five. Gavin exhales and prays to an absent God, prays no one will walk in on his small breakdown. He can’t bear to glance upwards towards the glass, to risk meeting either Traci or Chloe’s eyes should they look back at him.

 One, two, three, four, five. Exhale.

He counts silently, in the dark whirlwind of his own mind, until it calms enough for him to function. Gavin knows he’s burned out – he has been for a while now, and even the euphoria from the first week with Niles hasn’t completely derailed it. He also knows he can press on, can take two more days of this even if they’re equally as taxing, because Niles will take care of him on Friday.

When Gavin lifts his head, he feels distant and disoriented. It takes a few seconds for his vision to focus, for the office to solidify itself in his reality once more. Once glance at the computer screen sends a painful throb through his entire head, so he pushes away from the desk and stands. He can’t make it past the women and into the bathroom without being asked if he’s alright, so he picks up his phone and pretends – badly – to speak to someone while pacing around the room.

He can call Tina and have an honest conversation, but that’s not going to help him right now. He can call Niles, hope he’s not caught up in a scene right now, but that would help even less. So, to focus, he paces and counts his breaths, counts his steps, counts until his mind is nothing but numbers and the concrete perception of his surroundings.

Gavin settles back into his chair, curses his emotional instability, and swipes the screen of his phone to unlock it. He sees Tina’s reply – the woman is an old friend she’s reconnecting with, according to the preview in the notification – but ignores it for now. She can read him too well. He scrolls past Fowler’s earlier reply as well, landing on Niles’s name and opening the chat window without knowing what to say.

He knows what he needs, that much is obvious: he needs Niles to tell him how to stop. How to stop everything, how to keep from feeling like he’ll fall off the world if it doesn’t stop rotating.

A breathy, nasal laugh escapes him involuntarily. The phone rings and he ignores it, hopes the person on the other line will think he’s busy. He closes the chat window and opens Tina’s, messaging her without properly reading the full block of text she sent to explain the mysterious lady friend.

 _Coming over tonight, don’t ask_.

The biggest relief of the day comes when she doesn’t ask, she doesn’t reply at all. The message is received and read, though, which for Gavin means a green light to show up at the dojo at the tail-end of her last class. Tina knows exactly what to do to break him out of a spiral, and that’s exhaust his body to the point it matches his mind. She doesn’t hold back, and Gavin finds himself bruised and panting by the end of the night.

He wonders briefly if Niles will mind, if he’ll see Gavin’s need for intense exercise as an unhealthy coping mechanism or if he’ll understand. Tina tosses him a cold water bottle and a towel, helping all other thoughts go away until he’s able to stand again, his legs already aching from a sparring match they stretched far more than usual.

Tina is graceful and patient once they cool down, sitting on the mat with him and only then asking about the latest developments in the rat’s nest he calls a brain. Gavin tries his best to explain, to make her understand that Niles is good – too good for him, too kind and thoughtful, too perfect for him to be blinded about Gavin’s worth for much longer. That, deservedly, earns him a slap to the back of the head.

She presses him further, though, because she knows this isn’t all anxiety over the inevitable doom of his newfound happiness. Gavin finally cracks and caves, confesses to how stressful work has been, how scared he is of letting Fowler back in and disappointing him, how lost he _still_ feels without Elijah. He doesn’t push her away when she embraces him, and she doesn’t judge him when a tear falls on her skin.

 _It’s going to be alright_ , he repeats to himself, hoping to one day believe it. A sob is choked down at the absolute novelty of such a thought – now there’s a chance he’s not lying to himself. It may be a minuscule chance, but it’s more than he’s ever had, and right now it’s too much.

He disguises the next sob as awkward laughter, pulling back from Tina and shaking his head. They need a distraction, a way to move on from the heaviness in his heart. He also needs to be a better friend, so he chooses to talk about her instead.

“Anyway,” Gavin starts, another burst of forced, breathy laughter leaving his throat, “you gotta tell me about the girl in the picture. I didn’t get a chance to read your message. I mean, fuck, I’m-“

“If you apologize for a panic attack, I will hit you again.” Tina settles down beside him so their legs touch, and Gavin almost cries again because she knows how badly he needs human contact. He’s not going to pretend Tina ever does things without intention. Through the tears that make his eyes glassy, he sees her unlock her phone and scroll through the gallery to show him more pictures of the woman. “This is Sarah. I knew her before I went off an joined the army, but not too well – my family knows her family. It turns out she’s back in Detroit for a couple of weeks and she reached out to me, asked about going out for coffee.”

“She’s, uh, nice looking?” Gavin supplies, unsure what she expects him to say. There’s not much to an old acquaintance inviting you out to catch up. “I mean, that’s nice. You mean coffee like friends, yeah? Not- I mean, it’s not a date.”

“That’s the thing. I had a little crush on her, you know, as kids do. I don’t know if she’s straight or not, there’s nothing on her social media to show me if she’s dating or if she’s had a girlfriend before – not that I want to ask her out, but I might try and make a move while she’s here. If it’s safe. God, I don’t want to freak her out.”

“If she’s gonna freak out about you hitting on her, then she won’t be a good friend anyway.” Even as the words come out of his mouth, Gavin can feel Tina looking at him as if he’s spontaneously grown a clown nose. He fidgets uncomfortably. “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t cater to the – you know.”

“Homophobes, Gavin. We shouldn’t cater to the homophobes.” Tina slumps forward and groans, hiding her face in her hands. “God. I’m taking gay advice from the closet itself.”

Gavin chokes and laughs, though the comment does sting on a deeper level. They both know he has too many issues for them to be aired out so quickly. “Shut up. Nobody’s gonna shit on your dojo if you fuck women, and this girl isn’t even living in town, so there’s no harm in flirting. Go for it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’m meeting up with her – Wednesday, Thursday – yeah, I’m meeting her Saturday afternoon at one of those ridiculous new coffee shops that’ve been popping up.”

“Nice. Nothing like coming home to the same generic-ass crap they have all over the place. Fucking hipsters.” He can feel the jabs before they come, and he pushes Tina away before she can poke his ribs.

“Says the vegan city boy who wears red leather and only drinks organic coffee.”

“Fuck off, Chen.”

After leaving the dojo in a much better mood, dinner and a shower do wonders for Gavin’s mental state. His entire being is exhausted enough to simply collapse the moment he touches his mattress, and the last thing he does is send Niles a good night message.

Thursday morning sees Gavin dragging himself out of bed to trim his facial hair and check work e-mails before the sun rises. He feels a weight on his chest, but it’s balanced by the thought of seeing Niles again soon, of finally getting some release during their first scene as a couple. He only hopes his mental state isn’t enough to deter either of them.

It’s almost a blessing that work is boring. Gavin takes time out of his morning to finally reply to Fowler, messaging back and forth between him and Tina until they agree to have dinner on the 20th. It gives Gavin the time to recover from the brunt of what Niles might do to him, but still close enough to the scene for him to be sore, focused, centered. He won’t embarrass himself or spiral if he has that good pain to concentrate on.

The only issue now is what their dinner conversation will entail – can he tell Fowler about Niles, or is that too much too soon? This relationship can sink in a matter of days, weeks, it would do no good to have someone as put together and serious as Fowler in the know just yet.

Gavin tries to remind himself that Niles cares; Niles is sweet and attentive and he buys expensive coffee and healthy food strictly for Gavin’s benefit. There’s still the sinking, burning feeling of incoming disaster, but his stomach settles slightly. Niles cares.

He gets roped back into work when Traci drops a new stack of papers on his desk; half of them are reports, half of them are informative notices concerning the ridiculous amount of money Gavin needs to spend just to keep his company running. There are fiscal evaluations on the last six months, courtesy of his accountant, and other various papers concerning public and private transactions to maintain Attila’s base – compound – as is.

Chris tries to drag him away from the office for lunch, but he also mentions that Allen and Person will be joining them. Gavin politely turns him down, mentioning all the papers he needs to get through, and sends Chloe out to buy him food to keep up appearances.

It’s more effective to eat at his desk and answer e-mails at the same time. He wonders why he doesn’t do it more often, why he bothers taking a break for lunch, and then remembers the absolute meltdown caused by burnout the day before. It’s almost too embarrassing to think about, so he doesn’t.

Halfway through his lunch hour, he receives a message from Niles, a simple _can I call you?_ with no attached context or reason. The reaction is almost instantaneous – Gavin’s shoulders tense and he feels the threat of acid in his throat, an avalanche of bad thoughts and reasons why Niles wouldn’t simply text him. He thinks about Friday, the next day, the so-close release, and feels it slipping away.

Traci and Chloe are still out of the office, though, and no one will bother him for another half hour. He couldn’t live with the anxiety of waiting for bad news until after his shift, couldn’t deal with the nagging thoughts always trying to consume him, so he replies and gives Niles permission to call.

Despite being alone on the top floor, unsupervised and untapped, Gavin uses earbuds to hide Niles from his work life. He answers the call on the first few rings, surprised to find his partner chose video and not just audio – it must be _bad_. It takes an eternity for the video to load, the gray screen with its circular icon driving him mad, but then it’s Niles on the screen and – _oh_. He looks tired, his hair mussed and very unlike him, but not angry or sad. In fact, he’s wearing that tiny smile that melts Gavin’s core.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you at work. This is your lunch hour, correct?” Niles’s tone of voice is gentle, slightly raspy due to him only now waking up. Gavin sees a hint of the headboard in the video and suddenly wishes he could teleport, be there in bed and forget about everything else.

“Yeah. Yeah, and I already ate, so we’re all good. What’s up?” Gavin almost tacks _babe_ onto the end of that question, but decides against it at the last second. He can’t allow himself to grow that comfortable yet, and here – here, where the walls could very well have ears, it’s not safe.

“Not much. I had a long day yesterday, but today I only have one client and it’s nothing difficult. I’ll be getting ready for that soon, but I-“ Niles pauses, and Gavin feels his worries flying away. None of this is indicative of a breakup or even a cancellation. “I missed you.”

It’s such an honest, open admission that Gavin needs a second to process it. His imagination is still racing, still going into overdrive, so he can picture Niles waking up alone and finding it unsatisfactory, finding it just as lonely and despairing as Gavin does, and – sweet Jesus, that’s a thought. “Yeah?”

“I understand we have spent a considerable amount of time together this past week,” Niles continues, and there’s the slightest hint of nervousness slipping into his expression. “But I would like to see you today. It doesn’t have to be at my house, I understand how unfair it is to spend all of our time together in my space.”

“Oh.” Unfair? Gavin can’t believe – yes, he enjoys his house and the comfort he’s carved out of it, but Niles’s house is something else. Gavin particularly loves the L couch and the heated bathroom floor, but Niles’s ease and contentment there makes it perfect. “I can come over. It's not - it's not unfair, you know, and you were just at my place. I’ll need to go home first, but I, uh, like it there.”

“I would like that. Is there anything you want for dinner? My client today only wants encouragement and discipline for their house chores, I will not be too tired to cook.”

“That pumpkin soup was good. I don’t know, maybe something roasted – shit, no. Niles. You don’t have to do this, I’m already just going over to eat your food and fall asleep, I don’t want to give you more shit to do. Sorry.”

“Gavin, sweet. No part of this is a burden for me.” The ghost of a smile returns, and Gavin swallows. “I will prepare something as a surprise if you give me no guidelines.”

“That’s – that’s alright. Just, you know, none of that processed shit.” It’s hard to believe he’s giving in this easily, but Gavin can’t deny the appeal in having Niles’s homecooked food waiting for him after work. All of it is surreal, but Niles being willing to cook – to _learn how to cook_ – vegan food is something Gavin can’t entirely wrap his head around. “Uh. Thanks, Ni.”

“Of course. Let me know what time you’ll be here, alright? I need to get ready for work.” Gavin nods instead of answering verbally, and he sees Niles’s smile grow just enough to be perceptible. “Alright. I will see you later, sweetheart.”

“Yeah. Later, Niles.”

There may be a divine force behind the way Gavin feels – two halves of himself trying to tear him apart from the inside. On one hand, he feels warm and secure and confident, overjoyed at the thought that he won’t spend the night alone. On the other, he’s hyperaware of how inadequate that conversation was, how one-sided it seemed and how he’s unable to express the depth of his affection for Niles.

He decides to try something stupid, something sweet, so he changes Niles’s contact in his phone to show a small heart emoji beside his name. That lasts all of two minutes. Gavin edits it back to normal, knowing how horrible it is that he even considers changing it to simply say Ni – not out of affection in using the nickname, but because it can be easily brushed off as _Nicole_.

Gavin allows himself to drown in the guilt until Chloe and Traci return, chatting animatedly before separating to sit at their separate desks and begin the afternoon shift. He sends a message to Tina, letting her know he won’t be home until Saturday, and tries to finish reading though the intimidating stack of papers still sitting by his computer.

Time, as if to mock him, goes by slower than usual. Gavin is excited enough about the evening plans to turn down an after-work sparring match with Allen, choosing instead to leave on time and pack his small bag.

He showers first and is thorough in cleaning his body, although he doesn’t bother preparing for sex. There are slim chances of that happening this night. He uses conditioner both on his hair and stubble, an attempt at making it more comfortable for Niles, and is satisfied with the softness once it dries.

Gavin is packing his bag when his stomach demands food, but he knows whatever Niles is preparing will be worth the wait. He packs running clothes, fresh boxers, jeans and a shirt for work the next day and a pair of stay-at-home sweatpants just in case. As an afterthought, he moves his pistol from his backpack into the overnight bag, closes it, opens it, removes the pistol and places it back in the backpack for ease of access.

He checks that everything else is accounted for – wallet, keys, cellphone, charger, laptop, toothbrush and paste. As a last check-up before leaving the house, he looks over his outfit in the mirror and gives himself a nod of approval. It’s no more than his usual jeans, V-neck shirt and hoodie, but it’s not bad.

Gavin sets the backpack on the passenger seat, his clothing bag in the back, and texts Niles before he starts the car. He also replies with a picture to Tina’s _go get him tiger_ message, feeling his cheeks turn rather pink even as he sticks out his tongue and flips her off.

The unbearable wait of the slow day vanishes when, after a relatively short drive, Gavin is greeted by Niles in a thin gray turtleneck, sweatpants, and an apron around his waist, holding the house keys in one hand and tongs in the other. If Gavin had any less self-control, he may have kissed him right there for the neighbors to see.

As it is, he slips past Niles with a crooked smile and sets his bags down by the couch, his phone and wallet on one of the cushions. “Whatever you’re making smells damn good.”

“It is almost ready. You can have a seat; I only need to drain the noodles.” Niles disappears back into the kitchen, and Gavin follows a moment later. He feels inadequate just sitting while Niles works, but there’s not much else he can do, so he pulls out a chair and settles down to watch.

Niles plates for both of them – a perfect mound of noodles topped with a creamy white sauce, garnished with capers and small, seedless heirloom tomato rounds. The sauce is suspicious enough for Gavin to wonder if his partner forgot, and Niles breathes the start of a laugh when he sees his face.

“Do not worry. It’s a cauliflower sauce made using vegetable stock, though I did need to include vegan butter and non-dairy milk to make it work. I hope that is not off-putting.”

Gavin shakes his head and accepts the offered plate, watches Niles sit across from him and immediately reaches his foot out under the table so they’re touching the slightest bit. “It’s fine. It looks good, I just needed to make sure.”

“I understand your concerns. The noodles are also completely vegan, purchased at a small organic store near the studio.” Niles picks up a fork as he speaks, but he seems content in waiting for Gavin to start. Gavin wants to eat, God knows he’s starving, but he’s also burning with emotion at how deeply Niles understands him. He needs the explanations, needs the reassurance, and his partner doesn’t seem to consider any of it trivial.

“Thank you,” Gavin manages to say, looking down at his plate so he doesn’t have to face Niles’s undeniable – no, they’re not using that word. He twists his fork through the noodles, coats them in white sauce and eats the first bite. His eyes almost roll back from the taste alone. “Fuck. This is amazing, Niles, what the hell? It’s your first time cooking this?”

“Mh,” Niles confirms with his mouth full, swallowing before he attempts to talk. “It is. I had fresh cauliflower heads and used Google to discover what I should make. You mentioned soup, but I thought a sauce would be a nice change of pace.”

“Yeah. Holy shit. This is awesome, this is – it’s perfect.”

He’s not sure he’s talking solely about the food.


	14. A Standing Work of Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter should have been out a few hours ago, but my internet did me dirty and the formatting just wouldn't work. I hope you enjoy Friday, as it is finally here, and forgive my delays.

Niles is more than pleased with how Gavin receives his attempt at dinner, enough to give in and allow his partner to help with the dishes. He catches Gavin humming while scrubbing plates and suddenly understands what was meant by the Grinch’s heart growing three sizes, a fresh bloom of pure warmth emanating from the center of his chest. He chooses not to comment, afraid it may ruin the magic of the moment.

Once the aftermath of their meal is dealt with, they fall right into their – their _routine_. Niles stiffens for a fraction of a second once he realizes how commonplace Gavin has made himself, then smiles and pats down their pillows to the distant sound of synthetic bristles against teeth. He pulls the sheet up and folds it carefully over the top of the blanket, smoothing every wrinkle as he moves back towards the foot of the bed.

They switch places for Gavin to change into more comfortable night clothes as Niles freshens up for bed, going through the motions without any hurry. He knows Gavin won’t run now, that they have more than this short time together, because their relationship has developed much faster and much stronger than either could have predicted. Niles may be intimidated by it, but he is not at all disappointed.

When he returns to the bedroom, Gavin is just settling down, resting his phone on the nightstand as he turns the blankets back into a wrinkly mess. Niles bites the inside of his lower lip and closes the door out of habit, flicks off the lights and slides in beside his partner. In the dark and under the blankets, he can relax fully and rest his head on his partner’s arm, one palm pressed flat against Gavin’s chest to feel his heart.

There’s a moment of peaceful silence, both of them only breathing and sharing warmth, and then Niles hooks one leg over Gavin’s and presses closer. A soft, involuntary sound leaves his throat when Gavin’s embrace tightens lightly, a welcome response to his affection.

“Hey,” Gavin breaks the silence, and Niles is almost glad for it. As enjoyable as their peace is, the sensation that he might shatter it with a word is not as pleasant. “How are you doing? You didn’t say anything else about the whole shitsho- situation with your brother.”

“It is not incorrect to call it a shitshow.” Niles presses down against Gavin’s arm, feels a light squeeze just below his ribs and shakes his head. “I can’t say for sure how Connor is; he claims to be recovering but he has been rather distant the past few days. I chose to give him space, he will come to me if he needs me.”

Gavin responds with a low grunt like he understands, and Niles would rather accept that than sacrifice their comfort for Connor’s sake. In the morning, he will gladly check on his brother and offer support if necessary, but now he simply wants this – he wants Gavin and the feeling that perhaps his house is more than a collection of rooms he inhabits. It’s a strong enough pull that it almost comes out of his throat in question form, but he knows better. It’s far too soon.

“I’m alright,” he says instead, answering Gavin’s original question. He feels a brush of stubble against his forehead and allows his eyes to close, completing the blanket of darkness over them. He wonders how else to soften their reality, how to make it clear that he does not mean to burden Gavin with his emotional baggage, but nothing appropriate comes out. Niles knows in his heart that he needs to share his burdens, he needs to be open if he expects his partner to trust him. “I will tell you more about that another time, I promise.”

“Yeah. I get that.” Gavin seems slightly uncomfortable, but Niles knows these words are true. He can see Gavin hesitate, notice his every pause, but their foundation has not yet been solidified to where he can push those walls down. If he thinks too hard about it, it’s as if they share the same room while being separated by glass, and only these gentle moments breach that barrier.

“I do not mean to cut short our conversation. There’s simply a lot about my brother – about me – that is not necessarily easy to speak of.” Niles doesn’t know why those words come so easily, not when he wants to think about anything else but their ordeal. Gavin shifts the slightest amount and leans his head against Niles’s, and that’s enough to shatter his doubt for the moment.

“You’re going all formal on me.” Maybe Gavin can offer no better words of comfort, but Niles feels struck by the realization that his partner does pay attention on a deeper level than he seems to. It’s easy to tie that back to his profession, the idea that he needs to recognize and understand speech patterns, but that does nothing to diminish the exhilaration coursing through Niles at the thought.

“I know. I don’t mean to.” Somehow, admitting his emotions – his failings – seems simple now. Gavin has seen him torn open with worry, what else is there to know? Niles’s deeper wounds are ones he will have to expose in time, and so he sees no point in forcing his walls back into place. “It’s simply not a subject to discuss before sleep.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Just as Niles thinks Gavin might be disappointed, he feels a small huff of laughter against the top of his head. “I’m seeing my CO in a couple days. Well, Tuesday.”

“Is this work-related?” Niles shifts more of his weight onto his shoulder and raises his head, opening his eyes to see only the hint of Gavin’s silhouette in the dark room.

“Oh, no, no. Fowler was the one in charge of our unit back when Tina and I were in Iraq, he’s the only damn reason I wasn’t kicked out. He’s – you know, scary as shit when he needs to be, but he’s a good man. I told him about the whole, uh, _this_. Me.” Despite Gavin’s clear discomfort, there’s no sign that his commanding officer took the news badly. Niles assumes what his partner is trying to say is that he came out, but he won’t press for details now. It’s not the right time to start deconstructing Gavin’s perception of his sexuality.

Niles settles back down and noses at Gavin’s shoulder, sighing as he allows himself full relaxation. “I hope all goes well.”

Gavin seems to prepare to speak again, but no words come out. Niles decides to offer him a small physical assurance, tracing gentle patterns over his chest with the tips of his fingers until they both feel the pull of sleep.

The morning is like any other. Niles struggles to feel half as awake as Gavin does before sunrise, but he still prepares waffles for breakfast. He is mostly thankful that Gavin is too busy reading his e-mails to notice how the first few attempts end up in disgrace. He changes the recipe to have some more consistency and pours the batter into the waffle iron a fourth time, relieved when it holds its form and comes out golden-brown.

As Gavin seems reluctant to consume the high sugar content of honey or maple syrup on a frequent basis, Niles makes a bittersweet berry reduction without added sugars and pours that out into a small porcelain saucière.

“With the cold, berries may not be as sweet; please let me know if the bitterness is overwhelming.” Niles offers Gavin a gentle smile alongside his words, handing him a plate of waffles and a cup of dark coffee. To his own breakfast serving, he adds a small amount of butter and a light pour of syrup.

Gavin carves a sizeable cut of the top waffle, drizzles it with the reduction and takes a bite messy enough to make Niles’s heart leap. He’s almost overcome with emotion when, through a full mouth and slightly reddened teeth, Gavin tries to tell him how good it tastes.

“Please, Gavin, swallow before you speak,” Niles scolds, though he is unable to keep the hint of endearment from his voice. This is what he missed so badly the day before: Gavin’s nature, as guarded as it can be, is amusing and refreshing in a way Niles had ever expected. It may be his instinct to train good manners into his partner – a relic from his mother and a habit from his job – but that does not mean it’s not, on some strange level, revitalizing to experience.

Unfortunately, they only have a proper hour together before Gavin leaves for work. Niles spends most of it cleaning up and waving away Gavin’s help, reminding him of his vital role in washing the previous night’s dishes. Once everything is set out to dry, the leftover sauce sealed and placed in the refrigerator, he notices Gavin standing by the couch as he adjusts the contents of his backpack.

It’s a temptation nigh impossible to resist, so Niles walks over and embraces his partner chest to back, peppering soft kisses down the side of his neck. When Gavin tries to twist in his arms so they can face each other, Niles simply tightens his hold and keeps him in place, pressing forward so Gavin’s knees are trapped against the side of the couch.

“One moment, sweetheart,” he says softly, now flush against Gavin’s back. With his left hand holding his partner firmly in place, Niles slides his right under Gavin’s shirt to caress his abdomen. He’s mindful of the largest scar, deliberately avoiding it to prevent unnecessary anxiety so early in the day.

“Ni, we don’t have time for this.” Gavin’s small groan and words of protest are not supported by his actions, not when he pushes back against Niles and covers his left hand with an encouraging rough palm. “I’ve got work.”

“You won’t be late.” Niles nips at the skin just under Gavin’s ear, bites the soft lobe and drags it between his teeth with just enough pressure to make Gavin shudder. “I’m not doing anything,” he adds, even as he slowly rolls his hips so neither of them can ignore the beginning stages of his erection.

“Well, then _nothing_ feels pretty fucking big back there.” With laughter in his voice, Gavin moves with Niles the second time he tries it, firm cheeks sliding against his crotch in an upwards stroke. Niles breathes in sharply and holds still, lips pressed close over Gavin’s shirt collar. “Mh, what, giving up already?”

“Darling, you know better than to tease.” Niles’s hand travels lower, cupping the bulge at the front of Gavin’s jeans and giving the rough denim a squeeze. “We have no time for this.”

He can effectively feel Gavin’s attempt to suppress a whine when he steps away, his fingers trailing slowly from his partner’s erection instead of simply removing themselves from the picture. It’s the exact right amount of cruelty for a soft morning, the right buildup to their scene come night time.

“You know I can’t do shit about this at work, right? It’s not like jacking off in the office bathroom is a proper option,” Gavin complains, reaching to adjust himself to be more comfortable before turning to face Niles. The flush over his cheeks is enhanced by his lips, seemingly reddened from biting, and Niles is forced to abstain from kissing him just yet.

“I am well aware of that.” Niles straightens his shirt and runs a hand back through his hair, his gaze slowly trailing down Gavin’s body and back up to those expressive gray eyes. He inclines his head to the side and hums low in his throat. “In fact, I would strongly suggest you do nothing at all. It would be _discouraging_ to find you spent before I allow it.”

“Oh.” Gavin’s Adam’s apple bobs with Niles’s careful order, visibly aroused in more ways than one. Niles takes the opportunity to raise his hand and trace Gavin’s lower lip with an index finger, pulling it down slightly and then patting his cheek.

“Good boy. Now finish getting ready, I’ll prepare your lunch.” Niles will never say how much willpower he uses to turn from Gavin and head back into the kitchen, how much he wants to stand there and make him forget about work entirely. He knows he’s skirting the edge of their agreement, giving him instructions outside a scene, but Gavin did not protest it even in jest. They can build up slowly, and Niles knows there will be times when he has to back down – that is a non-issue.

He adjusts his own underwear for comfort and steers his thoughts away from the scene he planned for them, instead choosing a black-topped Tupperware in which to pack the leftovers of Thursday’s dinner. He adds a napkin and silverware to the mix, wrapping it up in a blue patterned cloth and placing it in a paper bag.

“I hope you do not mind the repetition. I understand if you prefer eating at a restaurant,” Niles says as he hands over the bag, the top carefully folded over so Gavin can carry it with ease. “I hope I’m not equivocated in assuming your facility provides the means to warm a meal.”

Gavin’s nose scrunches in confusion for a short second, and then he laughs and brightens. Niles steps closer than necessary once he releases the packed lunch, placing his hands at Gavin’s sides and leaning down to brush their lips together.

“Too fucking formal, and we _do_ have a microwave.” The vibrations of Gavin’s voice tickle against Niles’s mouth, so he kisses him properly and revels in the warmth. It’s enough to keep both of them quiet, the only exception being soft, barely-there moans.

Niles has to let Gavin go. He holds on as long as he can, kisses him deeply until they both lose their breath, and then steps aside so his partner can put himself back together and look presentable. Gavin takes only his backpack and lunch as he walks out towards his car, the overnight back still upstairs in the bedroom. With that at the forefront of his mind, Niles allows himself to smile at the closed door, knowing he won’t have to wait long to see the object of his affections again.

Knowing about their upcoming scene in advance helped Niles plan, and one of the precautions took was cancelling all other arrangements for Friday. He sinks back onto the couch now and triple-checks that no clients are booked until Monday, feeling the gentle thrum of excitement at his core. There’s a whisper in the back of his mind telling him to feel bad, to put his enjoyment on hold until Connor is happy, but he knows that would be unhealthy for all parties involved.

It is a good reminder to check on his brother, though, so Niles writes him a short message inquiring as to his emotional wellbeing. He considers calling Connor before being reminded of the time, partly by the bright light of his phone and partly by the yawn that forces itself out through his mouth.

Niles decides to make the most of his temporary stay on the couch as he manifests the courage to go back upstairs. He loads up his phone gallery and begins sorting though recent pictures of his clients – all faceless or masked for the sake of discretion – to find the ones he can use for his website. His favorite shots tend to be the aftermath, the red lines and bruises after impact play, but he also has a fondness in his heart for the sight of a submissive licking the leather of his boots.

When he does gather the courage and disposition to rise again, Niles takes the time to stretch and look outside. He only decides on sleeping over running because he has the full day to run and no intention to be badly rested by the time Gavin returns home.

Niles climbs back into bed and, after a moment of hesitation, pulls Gavin’s pillow to his chest and breathes in the scent of his partner. It helps ease him back into calm dreams, lulled by the combined ambient and blanket warmth.

He’s awake and on his feet again soon after nine o’clock, when he opens the curtains to allow the October sun to light up the house. It’s a good time to pick out exercise clothes and read his messages, one of which is a self-taken photograph of Connor lying half-awake on Daniel’s chest. Or Simon’s. Niles is willing to bet on the former.

There’s doubt in his mind as to whether he should be comforted or concerned – Connor and Daniel have had a thing, yes, but at no point has it been discussed and Niles highly doubts his brother is serious about it. Given his deep feelings for Hank, it’s safe to say Daniel is now serving as little more than a distraction, and Niles worries for the other man’s feelings despite not knowing whether they even exist.

It’s not his business, not unless it actively impacts their relationship with their friends, so Niles chooses to let it slide. He asks Connor to call him in the afternoon and moves on, now to thumb through his collection of jet-black suits and choose the most appropriate for Gavin. He briefly considers an alternative – perhaps leather, or a different color suit, but their first scene as a couple is not the one to introduce additional and unexpected variables.

Once both outfits are laid out on the mattress, Niles heads into the bathroom for his second round of morning hygiene. Now he takes the time to fix his hair into an acceptable style before returning to change and begin his warmup stretches. He doesn’t go through his entire routine upstairs, instead changing and heading down into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a few apple slices before ensuring he’s truly prepared to exercise.

After ensuring he has water on him and drinking an additional cup for good measure, Niles steps outside and shivers when the morning air bites at his face and hands. It’s colder than the day before, but the sun is pleasant and the run itself heats his body quickly enough to ease any discomfort, leaving behind only the enjoyment of the season.

Autumn and spring have to be Niles’s favorites – there’s less of the stifling summer heat, and the streets are rarely covered in ice. With winter approaching, it means he needs to renew his gym membership if he hopes to keep on running without acquiring any injuries from slippery sidewalks.

Niles makes it home with sweat beading his brow and wetting his torso, causing his shirt to cling to both his back and chest. He stretches again in the living room, sets his water bottle down on the kitchen counter and realizes he forgot to pick out clean daywear. It’s an easy enough task – sweatpants, underwear and a thin turtleneck sweater are all he needs. Niles slips into a refreshing cold shower and allows it to complete the process of waking him, setting his mind in motion to plan the details for their big night.

He already knows the essentials for their scene, has drawn them both from their negotiation and their previous interactions in a professional setting, but there is no harm in elaborating on details or possibilities. Niles is infinitely comforted by the freedom he is granted now, without a time constraint or the distance he needs to keep with clients.

Once dry and dressed, Niles combs his hair back into place and decides to begin working on lunch. Without Gavin at home and with the looming threat of Connor’s emotional fragility, he chooses comfort food: wild rice and baked chicken thighs paired with roasted green vegetables, only enough for one person. It may mean cooking a third time in the same day, but the practice is enjoyable and relaxing.

He washes all the dishes after the meal, checks the time, and sits down to watch television while he updates his website. Not all of his previously selected images make the final cut, and he sends some to North to get her opinion. She’s objective and decisive in her selections, which always helps when he’s in doubt.

It’s during the time he takes to ensure his online platforms are up to date that he notices neither he nor Gavin bothered sharing or mentioning any social media. Niles isn’t bothered by it – he knows Gavin has a relevant level of anxiety that would prevent him from unnecessarily associating with a known member of the kink community, and they see each other often enough that any such interaction would be merely for show.

When enough work has been done to show he’s still active, including updating his event schedule, Niles abandons his reruns of old MasterChef seasons and heads down into the home dungeon. He needs to dust and clean, as it hasn’t been used in some time, but Gavin won’t be home for another five hours and most of the furniture has been carefully covered in plastic since his last habitual partner.

As little attention as it has gotten from him in recent years, the basement is one of his favorite parts of the house. The size is right for all of his equipment to fit without looking crammed together, helped by the fact he has fewer overall things here than in his professional settings. This dungeon is entirely tailored to his personal tastes, from the calm but deep blue walls for ambiance to the selection of the bondage furniture, and the arrangement of tools on the walls and shelves.

The centerpiece is the frame bed, simple but elegant, perfect for rope, leather or metal restraints. The mattress is covered by simple white sheets to catch any dust, and these are quickly peeled off and piled to the side for Niles to carry upstairs and add to the laundry basket. He beats away any additional dust, removes the plastic cover from the headboard and folds it up. He repeats this process with the Saint Andrew’s Cross and the spanking bench, even if he doubts they will use all three on this first night. It helps to set the scene by not having the place look neglected.

Once the plastic is all stored away in one of the lower cabinets, Niles checks that everything is bolted in place and reaches up to the ceiling to test his suspension hoops. From there, it’s a matter of cleaning the floors and wiping down the furniture so it shines. He pays careful attention to the metal bars fixed to the wall and other standing restraints, both to ensure their stability and to make them shine.

After the equipment is clean, he repeats the process with the toys, and then goes over everything a second time for sterilization. There are particular items getting more attention than others, those he knows he wants to use with Gavin, including an expensive pair of form-fitting leather gloves.

Niles makes the bed with new, clean sheets, this time as black as the suit he plans to change into. The pillows he sets out are the same shade of blue as the walls, making for a complete visual impression the moment Gavin walks in. He could, in theory, already set up restraints to speed up the process of their scene, but the psychological aspect of working a submissive up while preparing their bondage is just as much as a part of his dominance as any direct contact between both parties.

He sets the old sheets in the laundry basket once he’s back upstairs, checks the time again and finds he has just enough of a window for a short grocery run. It’s a quick drive to the closest grocer he knows carries organic produce, where he chooses a selection of fresh fruit and vegetables, a bag of oats and a few spices. He finishes his cart off with almond milk, coconut water, and an indulgent slab of fillet mignon to prepare for Connor on Sunday.

As expected, Gavin arrives not long after Niles is done separating and storing the groceries. They meet at the entrance to the house and share another sweet moment, holding each other and exchanging kisses until the cold makes Niles usher Gavin inside and close the door.

Niles insists on dinner before anything else, ensuring both of them have enough fuel to get through the night of play. After the meal, Gavin goes upstairs to prepare and Niles begins to work on their aftercare platter – slices of kiwi and orange, a pitcher of water, a few nuts for substance. He sets them on the table beside the frame bed, where he also puts his rescue hooks and emergency cutters.

He takes this time to also check his first-aid kit, knowing there is a second in the bathroom should this one prove inadequate. Thankfully, it seems entirely functional and up to date, since he has continuously maintained this home dungeon despite not using it as often as he’d like.

Once everything is set up, Niles heads upstairs to change into his suit. He hears the shower running as he passes the bathroom and knows he can move slowly, carefully undressing before layering his suit on one piece at a time.

It’s worth the look on Gavin’s face when he enters the bedroom wearing only a towel, his hair still dripping water over his shoulders. Niles arches a curious eyebrow and Gavin’s cheeks color as he walks to the other side of the bed to pick clothes out of his bag.

“You do not need to dress,” Niles speaks up, an order disguised as a simple comment. He watches Gavin from his peripheral vision as he adjusts his cuffs and slips into his boots. “Choose your clothes and take them with you, but leave the towel,” he adds when Gavin stops looking through the bag entirely.

Gavin doesn’t answer, but he also doesn’t protest, obediently following the instructions. The heating system is working well enough that Niles isn’t concerned about his partner’s exposed skin, and the only discomfort he can sense is emotional, born from the transition between mindsets and Gavin’s personal issues regarding that fine line.

Having laced himself into the boots, Niles steps close to his partner and rests a hand between his shoulder blades – gentle, soothing, a reminder that they’re both safe. Gavin leans into it and looks back at Niles, anxiety and vulnerability both clear in his eyes, but not predominant.

“Are you sure about tonight?” Niles asks, rubbing a few stray droplets of water back into Gavin’s skin. He doesn’t want to wait until they’re in the dungeon to double-check, knowing it’s easier to cancel plans now despite trusting Gavin to be honest with him.

“Yeah.” There’s Gavin’s little crooked smile as he turns, dropping his clothes back on top of his bag to brace both hands on Niles’s sides. “Just been a while, but I’m good. Shit. Sorry.”

“What is there to apologize for?” Niles leans down as if to kiss him, instead only brushing their noses together. “We’re just fine, sweetheart. Whatever you need.”

“I’m good,” Gavin repeats, and Niles takes the chance to just barely join their lips. He pulls back a second later. “I wanna do this, I just need to get back into- into thinking it’s alright. You got everything ready?”

“Of course. We can descend once you are ready.” Niles places his hands on Gavin’s arm and breathes in his amused laughter, heart blossoming with warmth despite already slipping into the mindset he needs for the scene. “What is it?”

“Your choice of words. We can go now.” Surprisingly, Gavin punctuates his statement by leaning forward and kissing Niles, one of the few times he’s been comfortable initiating affection. That’s enough to reassure him that all is well.

Niles leads the way down to the basement, holding the door open for Gavin and closing it once they’re both inside. He can see his partner taking in the decoration, the different ambiance and spacing, the whole while holding his clothes in front of his crotch as if to cover himself.

“What do you think?”

“Damn. It’s – it’s really fucking nice; I didn’t think you’d go all-out on this place.” Gavin shifts his weight from one foot to the next and Niles smiles softly at the sight. “Blue?”

“It is calming, but intense enough to maintain an alert state if necessary. On a less psychological level, it is my preferred color.”

“Blue, hm. Explains a few things.” Stepping further toward the center of the room, Gavin looks around and turns back to Niles, motioning towards his folded clothes. “Where can I put these?”

“Allow me.” Niles takes the clothes from Gavin and sets them on one of the cabinet tops, then scans the shelves directly over them for his preferred play collar. He wants to buy Gavin his own, a play item to have and keep after he is truly collared, but it might be a while until they both feel ready to commit.

The collar he picks now is made of three layers of black leather, padded on the inside, two and a half inches wide. It is relatively heavy and the buckle can be either secured or locked, an interesting concept to consider for future scenes.

As soon as Niles is holding the collar, the air in the room seems to shift. When he looks at Gavin, his partner is no longer hiding – his shoulders are squared but his posture is not overcome by tension, and he looks more expectant than nervous.

“Gavin, what are your safewords?” Niles asks, the same signal to start as they have always used. He schools his face to be less expressive, ensures his posture is straight, and steps forward to emphasize their power dynamic.

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, green for okay. Unsat for stop.” Gavin’s obedience returns without hesitance, and Niles feels pride in the way they have evolved together. He carefully fastens the collar around Gavin’s neck and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Very good, sweetheart. Kneel in the center of the room. I will go over some of my plans for tonight and you will voice any objections, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Gavin meets his eyes as he says it, another unexpected positive development. Niles watches as he gets into position, humming low in his throat and nodding his approval.

“I assume, as previously discussed, that you have adequately prepared yourself to be the recipient of intercourse.” Niles’s eyes are trained on his wall as he speaks, his back turned to Gavin. He reaches for his two favorite floggers and walks back around the room to set them on the mattress.

“Yes, sir.”

“I do not intend to stray far from our known preferences and previous experiences. I will use rope today, your known preference for flogging, and some genital stimulation through the use of silicone toys.” Niles picks out the rope first, holding it coiled in one hand as he pulls a toy from another cabinet – a small but curved plug, ridged, with an attached vibrating cock ring. He allows Gavin to see it before making his decision on whether to object or not.

In the future, Niles hopes to know Gavin’s comfort and preferences well enough to make the decisions without revealing all his cards. There’s a thrill to surprising a submissive, but there is no benefit to either of them if he triggers another episode, so that is something to be worked up to.

“Yes, sir.” This time, Gavin sounds the slightest bit less composed. Niles is satisfied to know this is working as the first step towards helping him relax and fully submit.

The next item needs no introduction. Niles doesn’t speak as he selects it, he simply pulls the elegant black box from the cabinet and sets it down with the other toys. Gavin has seen the exact same box before, as Niles stores all of his clamps this way.

“Lastly, do you object to sensory play tonight?” It’s a direct question because it needs to be. Niles is too aware of the way he ended their transactional relationship and the incident that preceded his choice.

“No, sir.”

“Good.” Niles opens a different cabinet and looks over his choice of stimulating lubricants. Between heating, cooling and tingling options, Niles decides on the elegant bottle labeled ice. He selects a common, regular water-based lubricant alongside it, both for his own benefit and so as not to push Gavin too far too fast. This is also when he chooses to pick up a row of condoms so they don’t need to go through the cabinets again.

With a full set now laid out on the bed, Niles walks right by his submissive to play with the lights, switching out the regular white for the ambient blue. These lights aren’t as bright, coming from the corners of the room and not the center, but not dim enough to impair their vision.

Niles comes to stand in front of Gavin now, close enough that his submissive is forced to sit back on his heels and look up. He pushes Gavin’s wet hair back with one hand, moves to cup the side of his face and gently strokes the stubble there with his thumb.

“I forget how beautiful you are, how obedient.” Gavin licks his lip and averts his eyes, likely embarrassed by Niles’s open praise, but that only serves as incentive. “Will you be good for me today, Gavin?”

“Yeah. I’ll try, sir.” In an effort to continue avoiding eye contact, Gavin leans forward to rest his head on Niles’s thigh. He allows this for now, simply stroking the curve of his partner’s jaw and savoring the moment.

It’s sweet, and Niles is more than happy to ensure Gavin gets the care and love he needs before they dive into any intensity. When he feels his partner starting to lean forward, seeking more contact and getting too drawn into the gentleness, he steps back.

“Hold your arms out above your knees and don’t move.” Niles waits for Gavin’s confirmation before he moves again, taking up the rope and unwinding it slowly. He has no hurry, checking that this is indeed fifteen feet long and then finding the bite before he reenters Gavin’s line of sight. Here, Niles has a choice: he can kneel to tie Gavin up or have his submissive stand without the aid of his hands, the latter a far more entertaining prospect. “Keep your arms as they are and stand up.”

Gavin doesn’t struggle the way most of Niles’s submissives do – a large part of that is due to military training, a smaller part due to pride. It’s still enjoyable to see his movements slowed, the concentration he employs in standing without losing his balance.

“That’s right.” Niles carefully wraps the rope around Gavin’s wrists, pulling the end of it through the bite to form the foundations of a cuff. He leaves some space between both arms for this purpose, repeating the first step three more times before looping the additional rope through the middle to tighten the tie and bind both wrists together. Checking that Gavin has enough space to allow safe circulation, he then ties it off with a square knot at the bottom. “Color?”

“Green,” Gavin replies, and Niles is pleased to see him test the ropes by attempting to pull his arms apart. It’s clearly only to check the strength, so no reprimand for struggling is required. The action also seems to alert Gavin’s genitals to their planned activities, though he’s not yet erect. Niles gently guides his submissive’s arms back down into a relaxed state, rubbing circles over his triceps to help work out the strain.

When he draws a content sigh from Gavin, his hands move forward, tracing the defined biceps and finally reaching Niles’s personal favorite warmup for their scenes – Gavin’s chest. He cups the muscle and massages it firmly, rolls the pebbled nipples between his fingers and delights in the reactions.

“How is that? You seem to enjoy the attention to your chest.” Niles knows he’s being a tad cruel – Gavin’s lips are pressed in a thin line to prevent sound from escaping, though he’s not sensitive to the point where this stimulation would make him loud. It is part of his role to push his submissive further than he thinks he can go, to train away that shame, and so Niles has no qualms in doing so. When Gavin refuses to reply, he tightens his hold on both nipples and pulls on them, twisting just enough to hurt. “Use your words, Gavin.”

“Ah, fuck. It’s good, sir, I like it.” It’s not ideal, as Gavin closes his eyes to speak without facing Niles directly, but it’s enough for what was asked of him. Niles carefully rubs at Gavin’s sore nipples and leans down to kiss them, dry and chaste.

“Good boy. Don’t make me punish you, Gavin, you’re so beautiful when you behave.” Halfway between threat and encouragement, Niles’s words reflect only the surface of his feelings for Gavin’s submission. Here is someone who has every reason to be guarded, every reason to reject this, opening himself up to being vulnerable, to being trained and shaped in ways that will benefit them both. Niles sees a deep untapped potential in Gavin, the chance to bring back his bratty nature without the threat of a violent dominant balanced with the idea that impact play is a reward, not a punishment. In his eyes, Gavin is a treasure trove.

“Yes, I’m sorry, sir.”

“I know, darling. You need me to remind you, it’s been so long.” Niles kisses up Gavin’s neck to his lips, allowing a brief meeting of their tongues before breaking away again. “All you need is guidance and a steady hand, isn’t it?”

“Ah. Yes, sir.”

There is another hard admission, something he knows goes beyond their scenes, and it makes him all the prouder to hear Gavin vocalize it. These are the things Niles knows they can’t work through on their own, the things he knows should have been dealt with before they ever touched this aspect of their relationship, but he is aware of his own bad decisions and can only hope they somehow reward him. If Gavin can be open to _him_ , he can be open to suggestion, and that is far more than he can guarantee otherwise.

Niles hooks one finger through the rope cuff and guides Gavin towards the bed, bringing him to stand beside it and face one of the metal bars attached to the wall. These aren’t truly the best for support when paired with the bondage method Niles chose to employ, but that’s just another test – Gavin is more physically resilient than other submissives, trained to stand unwavering, and Niles intends to use that.

He takes a second rope to secure Gavin’s cuff to the bar, making it so he can’t quite close his fists around it. It doesn’t go unnoticed, but he soothes his submissive with a kiss to the temple and a slow stroke down his spine.

“Stand still, I know you can take it.”

Despite his words, Niles doesn’t move directly into impact play. That would take the fun out of building Gavin to his breaking point and cut short Niles’s enjoyment of a slow and deliberate scene. Instead of moving towards the toys on the bed or the gloves still set aside from earlier, he simply moves both hands up and down Gavin’s back with varying pressure, a facsimile massage.

Satisfied with the give of his partner’s muscles, Niles presses close against him and trails slow, wet kisses over the curve of his shoulders. His hands find Gavin’s hips and pull them back until his spine is slightly arched, a position that draws an involuntary full-body shiver from his submissive.

“Good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, Ni- sir, yes sir.”

“Such a good boy for me.” Niles rolls his hips forward against the curve of Gavin’s ass, drags his teeth over the skin at the base of his neck. “Good enough to be marked, aren’t you? To have an excuse to show me those pretty bruises once we finish here.”

The way Gavin’s breath hitches arouses Niles just as much as the way he pushes back into the contact. He only realizes now how much he missed this kind of connection, the intimacy of a submissive who is also his lover.

“I- if you think so, sir.”

“No, Gavin. You need to tell me, tell me how good you are. Do you deserve the flogger tonight, or should I make do with my hand?”

“No, no,” Gavin immediately protests, leaning his head back against Niles as if he knows to beg with his body as well as his words. “I’m good, I am, I’ll be even better. Please, sir.”

“I don’t know what you’re asking for. You need to be clearer with your requests, Gavin.” The hint of humor in his voice is just enough to make Gavin tug at his restraints, and Niles allows himself a hidden, amused smile. This is the desperation he expects after so long.

“ _Fuck_. I want you to – to hit me, to use the flogger, please. I’ve been good, I can take it.” Gavin practically whines, though his voice isn’t nearly thin and high enough for that, and Niles considers his pleas with a low hum and another kiss to the side of his neck. “Please, sir.”

Niles steps away instead of offering a verbal answer, and Gavin immediately turns his head to watch him. It’s as if all remaining tension and worry drains from him when Niles picks up both floggers, considering first the smaller one – more of a sting toy, something for buildup – and then Gavin’s known favorite thud model, made with buffalo leather falls.

He considers skipping the initial step and instead using the buffalo leather to administer the first light blows, but it is far more rewarding if Gavin sees the toy itself as recompense. Niles chooses the smaller flogger to start with and, assuming position once again, spends the first two minutes only tracing Gavin’s back and shoulders with the falls and his bare hands.

Gavin leans into every touch, his physical response already incredibly heightened, but Niles won’t have that now. He presses at the center of Gavin’s back and growls in a low voice, speaking close to his ear.

“You will stand still and count every blow. Disobey me and I will skip your favorite toy entirely, is that understood?”

“Yes, yeah, sir.” It’s Gavin’s first instinct to go rigid at the command, but Niles works him back down to relaxation before he swings the flogger for the first time. The initial strikes aren’t hard enough to cause more than a passing sting, but they build in intensity until the loud slap of leather on skin is followed by small sounds drawn straight from Gavin’s throat.

Niles only uses this flogger to get to that point, to tinge Gavin’s skin pink and draw them both tight with anticipation. When the heavier toy finds his hand, firm and unrelenting, he doesn’t wait to swing again.

The way Gavin cries out is beautiful, and Niles can see every back and shoulder muscle contract and relax in the span of a second. He’s about to reprimand his submissive for not counting when he finally voices a number, continuing from where they left off with the lighter falls.

This is something Niles knows Gavin can take and take well, so he delivers hard blows in quick succession, then lighter intermittent ones between which he strokes, kisses and rubs Gavin’s sensitive skin.

When he sets down the flogger for the last time, it’s only because Gavin is beginning to grow unstable on his feet. Niles can see him waver with every hit, see the way he struggles to both keep count and hold himself upright without the assistance of the bar or the wall in front of him. He unties Gavin from the bar while praising him, peppering pet names where he can.

With his submissive secure in his arms, Niles guides him to the bed and helps him kneel on the mattress, moving up behind him and bringing Gavin’s back close against his clothed chest. “My beautiful Gavin, you’ve done such a great job following my orders. How are you feeling now? Can you give me a color?”

“M’green,” Gavin replies, the slur in his voice likely coming from the dual sensations of pain and pleasure – the second evident in his now prominent erection. “Feel good. Starting to get sore, and my shoulders are – you know, from holding my hands up in front.”

“Yes, of course. Do you need me to release the cuffs?” Niles presses his lips to Gavin’s neck again, hands tracing every muscle on his abdomen and finding his chest once more. He lightly teases the nipples, rubbing with only the tips of his index fingers until Gavin’s very slowly rocking into his touch.

“No. No, I’m good. S’good.”

“You are,” Niles agrees, though he knows it’s not what Gavin meant. He kisses his way back to Gavin’s shoulder, covering the area in soft bites that only threaten to mark. It’s teasing, but it’s also giving them both a reprieve from the intensity before they jump back into it.

The next step he chooses, once he deems them both ready to proceed, is the insertion toy. Using the regular lubricant on his hand, Niles reaches between their bodies to rub and press over Gavin’s hole until he’s relaxed and accommodating enough for one finger to slip easily inside. It would be a shame to rush this process, so Niles sucks hickeys into Gavin’s skin as he uses that finger to massage his prostate, drawing moans and involuntary movements from his partner.

It’s not long before Gavin is begging again, pressing back on Niles’s hand and asking for more, to feel the stretch and weight of more inside of him. It’s far too tempting a request, and Niles can’t ever claim it’s undeserved.

He removes his finger, wipes it and opens a condom for the toy, covering and lubricating it before first sliding the ring part of it onto Gavin’s erection and securing it. The black band around the base of his shaft enhances the shape of it, the slight curve and the bright color of the head as it peeks out from under his foreskin. Then, slow and gentle, he begins to push the plug inside. Instead of conical and flared, this one is ridged and mostly uniform in size, which makes for a far smoother insertion.

Gavin moans and sags forward when the base of the toy presses between his cheeks, the connection between the plug and ring snug against his perineum. Niles allows him a moment to adjust to the feeling before reaching around and turning on the vibrations, drawing another, far more broken sound from his lips at the first wave of pleasure.

“Perfect, sweetheart, you’re just perfect.” Niles noses at the thin hairs at the back of Gavin’s neck, presses his lips to the skin there as if he weren’t trying to tear Gavin apart with pleasure. His own erection now straining against his pants, he knows the scene will likely end sooner than planned – which is just fine, considering it is only the start of them.

Niles gives his partner just long enough to stabilize on his own, to ease into the new sensations, before he moves away and settles in front of Gavin instead. He has more planned before they finish, and he can visibly notice Gavin’s pupils dilating when he reaches for the box that holds the nipple clamps.

The pair he pulls out are standard alligator clamps weighed down by a connective chain, enough to intensify the sensations but not heavy enough to be used for enlargement. Instead of immediately using them, though, Niles sets them down by Gavin’s knees and spreads a small amount of the cooling lubricant on his fingers.

“Color.”

“Ah, green, green,” Gavin says, his thighs tightening and relaxing as he tries to thrust his hips for more friction on either end. “Please.”

“Please what, Gavin?” Niles asks again, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“Please, sir.”

“There you go.” Satisfied with the answer and the need Gavin is displaying, Niles rubs the cold substance onto both sensitive nipples, massaging it in and reveling in the way Gavin’s sounds hitch just a slight bit higher.

Only when he’s sure the cooling sensation is intensified does Niles attach the clamps, one nipple at a time. The wait is definitely worth the way Gavin’s mouth hangs open, his lips slick with saliva as he tries to find new ways to beg.

“A work of art, that’s what you are,” Niles says softly, leaning down just enough to lick the excess lubricant from the side of one nipple. It’s lightly minty, not particularly pleasant or unpleasant in flavor, but the sensation on his tongue is enjoyable. “You should thank me, Gavin. I have given you all you asked for, after all, and here I am with no sign of your gratitude.”

Niles can’t help but find Gavin endearing, his apologetic wide eyes that don’t quite focus when the pulsing vibrations rock through him. Without further prompting, Gavin leans forward on his elbows, bound forearms tight against the mattress, and raises his ass in the air as he moves to mouth and nuzzle at Niles’s crotch.

“What, darling? You want to thank me?” Niles lowers one hand down to his partner’s hair, holding it firmly but without pulling. “Is that it?”

“Yes. Yeah, sir, let me thank you. You’re – _ah_ – so fucking good to me, and I’m not – I didn’t think, I’m sorry. Let me suck you off, thank you for everything, show you I can be good. So fucking good.”

Niles chuckles, warm and loving, because it’s impossible to hold it in when Gavin is desperate enough to be near tears. Instead of releasing Gavin’s head to allow for free movement, he slowly rubs his clothed crotch over his submissive’s face, grinding against his cheek and mouth until Gavin gets the hint and begins licking and sucking him over the fabric.

It’s then that Niles remembers his mistake – one he’d made on their first sexual encounter, one he is trying not to make again. They haven’t shared test results yet, and he isn’t entirely comfortable with unprotected oral sex in this situation. Gavin groans when he’s pulled away, but Niles silences his protests by unfastening his pants and tearing open a second condom wrapper, pinching the tip between two fingers and rolling the latex ring down towards the base of his shaft.

“Alright, sweetheart, show me how thankful you are.” Niles keeps his words both encouraging and firm, making no effort to minimize or hide his pleasure once Gavin’s mouth is on him once more. He may not be quite as vocal, but the small sighs and careful movements of his hips indicate how far gone he is, how much he wishes to just take. Patience is good for both of them.

Gavin takes the head into his mouth, sucks and bobs his head to the best of his ability. Niles takes the opportunity to rub over the red lines marking the back of Gavin’s shoulders, speak praises of his performance – impressive for the first time in months, more so without hands, he’s not going to hold back words for that.

There is more he is unable to hold back, and so he pulls Gavin off and back into a sitting position before long. He rewards his willingness to please with a deep kiss and tight tugs on the chain that connects his nipples.

“Color, sweetheart?”

“Green,” Gavin moans against his lips, shuddering as he sits back. “So fucking green, please, please, Ni. Sir. I want you to fuck me, need you.”

There it is. His strong, proud, scarred partner just needs to be taken care of, reduced to tears of pain and pleasure, and Niles is more than happy to oblige. He kisses Gavin again and turns off the vibrations, feeling the last fruitless thrusts of Gavin’s hips into the air before he stills. Niles carefully removes the toy on both ends and dips two fingers into Gavin’s hole, only enough for him to feel the intrusion.

“I want you to ride me. You did promise to do the work this time.”

“Yeah. Fuck yeah.” Gavin clearly speaks without thinking, because he watches Niles’s face shift and bites his lip in shame and harmless guilt. “Yes, sir. Sorry.”

“Good boy. You corrected yourself, that makes me proud.” Niles kisses the tip of his nose and sits back, changing his condom for a new one and adding more lubricant to his hand. He strokes himself slowly as Gavin raises off the bed, moving forward on his knees until he straddles Niles’s lap.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Of course. Come on, Gavin, show me what you want.” Niles holds the base of his shaft, watching intently as Gavin positions himself over it and slowly pushes down. He misses the first time, overenthusiastic and too fast-paced to let the penetration happen, but Niles’s cockhead catches on his rim the second time and Gavin lowers himself with a moan.

Wiping the lubricant off his hands, Niles breathes deep sigh and rocks up into his partner’s heat, unable to take his eyes off the image of Gavin immediately moving up and down. The movement makes the chain on his chest bounce and pull, but Niles has plans that don’t involve that enticing sight.

He leans forward and bites below Gavin’s collarbone, sucks a deep red mark there as he removes the nipple clamps and sets them aside. The release of pressure is the best part, he knows, as it causes a rush of blood that causes heightened sensitivity. Niles takes advantage of that by blowing air on Gavin’s chest, then licking away the mint-flavored lubricant until all he can taste is Gavin’s skin. He repeats the process on the other nipple, groaning low against Gavin’s skin as they both work closer to a climax.

This time, Niles comes first, digging his teeth into the hard muscle of Gavin’s chest and muffling a moan there as his hips stutter upwards. Gavin simply keeps riding him until he can’t anymore, and Niles decides to play nice and stroke him to completion.

They’re both left breathing hard, Gavin still twitching and shivering with the strength of his release. Niles lies back against the mattress and brings his submissive over him, stroking down his back and pressing sweet kisses into his hair.

“Beautiful, Gavin. So beautiful, so good for me, love.”

He doesn’t notice the word slip, and neither does Gavin.  


	15. Freedom Don't Come Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter is Gavin's POV of their scene from the last chapter, but I felt we needed to explore his feelings in that context. 
> 
> Additional warnings for this chapter: there is a minor character death.

Gavin has now spent enough time with Niles to remember changing the water temperature before he steps into the shower. The heat settles his mind into a comfortable fog, where all worries temporarily melt away, and Gavin indulges – he stands there for a short while, unmoving, focusing only on the sensation of water falling against the back of his neck.

Once wasting water becomes a concern, Gavin sets about washing his body thoroughly. The shower after douching always makes him double down on the attention to external cleanliness, so he scrubs his skin just short of making it red. Some of it may be anxiety due to the upcoming scene, the fear that he may somehow be inadequate for Niles despite his partner’s trust and –

Gavin double-checks that he is appropriately prepared for their scene and turns off the shower, wrapping his towel around himself and standing there for another moment before patting his skin dry. He uses it to rub the excess water from his hair, too, but that does little to stop it from dripping. Gavin at least tries to make it less messy before wrapping the towel around his waist and abandoning Niles’s lovely heated bathroom floor.

The temperature inside is still pleasant, and the only thing on his mind until he enters the bedroom and sees Niles like _that_. He’s not entirely put together just yet, but even standing there in half of his suit and only socks on his feet, Niles looks powerful. Put together. Most importantly, the calm expression on his face gives him the aura of control that melts Gavin to his core.

Their eyes meet and Gavin feels the color rise to his face. He moves from the doorway towards his bag, unsure how to proceed but still deciding that picking out his night clothes is better than silently gaping at his partner. His cock pulses with interest and Gavin silently counts breaths to keep from hardening too early. Niles doesn’t help at all, not he cuts Gavin off from looking for a shirt with that cool, demanding tone.

“You do not need to dress.” The shiver that runs up Gavin’s spine is enough to make him stop moving entirely, even when his towel threatens to slip down from his hips. “Choose your clothes and take them with you, but leave the towel.”

Gavin wants to speak, but his voice catches low in his throat. He wants to please Niles, to prove he can be obedient. More pressing, the idea of being casually exposed while his partner is dressed to perfection is stimulating enough to make Gavin’s teeth dig into the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t dare hesitate but is careful not to rush, not to seem overeager. First, he separates the outfit, then removes his towel and folds it – they can hang it up later.

There’s a new current of tension running through his shoulders as he fights his mind for control. This is what he wants, what he needs, but there’s still a voice telling him he’s weak and foolish, insufficient, damaged far beyond repair. That he is putting himself in danger, giving up his position, risking everything. Gavin can mostly silence it, but he doesn’t think it goes unnoticed.

He can hear Niles move, his senses tuned high by the tension of his shifting moods. When a warm hand settles against his spine, Gavin exhales slowly and presses against it, looking at Niles for some sort of guidance. He’s never felt quite this exposed, this emotionally open to someone new. And Niles _is_ new, despite having already burrowed so deep in Gavin’s core that it would be agony to remove him.

Niles touches him with such care and reverence it makes Gavin want to break, and he is unable to keep from smiling when Niles asks if he wants to go through with this. It’s embarrassing, to be this nervous, but Niles understands and soothes him, tells him there’s nothing to apologize for. They share a brief but loving kiss and Gavin looks up at his partner with adoration.

“I wanna do this,” he says, because he needs Niles to know his anxiety doesn’t stem from regret or a change of mind. It’s hard to get the words out, and he avoids any specifics for fear of seeming even less masculine in his own eyes. In the eyes of the people who made him this way. “I just need to get back into- into thinking it’s alright. You got everything ready?”

“Of course. We can descend once you are ready,” Niles replies, and his sincerity combined with the way he says it is what does Gavin in. He presses closer and breathes a laugh, some tension draining away at the reminder of how strangely _sweet_ Niles is. “What is it?”

“Your choice of words.” Descend makes Gavin think of anything but a sexy dungeon – most notably descending into madness, hell, chaos. His thoughts on it are far from dark, though, because Niles’s innocent usage of the word is unexpected and welcome. “We can go now,” he adds, pressing a kiss to his partner’s lips in a rare moment of courage. It both breaks and warms his heart to see Niles’s eyes light up from it.

Gavin feels ten times more exposed once they part and leave the room. He holds his clean clothes in front of his crotch the whole while, but some of the discomfort eases away the moment he walks into the basement. It’s clearly a personalized dungeon that was slowly put together. The blue walls, the quality of the furniture, the deliberate layout. It’s not at all what he’d expected, and he says as much.

It gives him a little joy to learn blue is Niles’s favorite color, to think maybe that’s why the roses on his arm are simultaneously bright and calming. Niles takes away Gavin’s clothes and picks up a collar, and it’s as if Gavin’s shoulders know they should be at ease. He stands straight without trying to cover himself – that little voice tells him he should, but he does not want to displease Niles.

“Gavin, what are your safewords?” There it is, the signal to start the scene. Niles looks stern and composed, and their height difference is more noticeable when Gavin stands barefoot against the slight feel of his partner’s boots. The last spark of doubt fades away as Gavin gives himself over to the new tension in the air, the engulfing security of their dynamic.

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, green for okay. Unsat for stop.” It’s procedure, but Gavin still feels accomplished when Niles rewards his obedience with a forehead kiss – the strangest, sweetest intimacy he never thought would suit him. He never thought if would suit _them_ , not until he started to see Niles as more than only a Dominant.

“Very good, sweetheart. Kneel in the center of the room. I will go over some of my plans for tonight and you will voice any objections, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Gavin replies, and he can’t exactly look away from Niles as he says it. He can’t hide. Walking slowly towards the center of the room, he lowers himself onto his knees. The floor isn’t warm but it’s not so cold it hurts.

“I assume, as previously discussed, that you have adequately prepared yourself to be the recipient of intercourse.” Niles speaks as if there were nothing strange about discussing this, nothing embarrassing or meant to be hidden. Gavin is infinitely thankful that his partner has turned away to further build the scene, because this is not something he can easily talk about.

“Yes, sir.” Gavin’s voice is tight, his attention is trained on the floggers as Niles sets them down. He knows even before Niles says it that they’ll be staying within safe, known territory for the night. That’s alright.

“I do not intend to stray far from our known preferences and previous experiences. I will use rope today, your known preference for flogging, and some genital stimulation through the use of silicone toys.”

None of that has the right to sound as enticing as it does. The words send another rush of warmth down to Gavin’s cock, his stomach beginning to coil with the pressure of arousal. He needs to swallow excess saliva before speaking again. “Yes, sir.”

Gavin rocks his hips once against nothing but air, the moment he lays eyes on the dark box that he knows holds nipple clamps. Niles always knows the best way to work him to full arousal, and this slow and methodical preparation is only feeding Gavin’s imagination. When Niles mentions sensory play, it takes effort not to make an undignified sound to go with his response.

He watches Niles lay out lube and condoms, then looks up expectantly as he is approached – only for Niles to walk past him to switch the lights. Gavin feels small, not dissimilar to a boat on the open sea, but he does not feel insignificant. The lights are dimmer now, blue and subtle and deeply calming. His eyes adjust quickly as he hears Niles’s boots against the floor, and then his partner stands in front of him, close and imposing. Gavin is all too aware of how close his face is to Niles’s crotch.

“I forget how beautiful you are, how obedient.” Niles touches him with intent and admiration, speaks in that rich, controlled voice and Gavin can’t bear it anymore. He looks away and feels his cheeks burn with embarrassment and pride at once, with the knowledge he is good but he absolutely should not be doing this. “Will you be good for me today, Gavin?”

“Yeah. I’ll try, sir,” Gavin adds, because he’s not entirely sure. He leans his head forward against Niles’s thigh and breathes in the gentle, clean scent of his suit. There is a moment of tension where he believes he acted wrongly, but Niles simply continues touching him and Gavin relaxes into their scene.

This feels right. Maybe he’s misshapen, unable to fit anywhere, unwanted in most places. That never matters when he kneels for Niles, when he belongs to him. Gavin can feel the familiar pull of subspace, the gentle calm that numbs him to the world outside this room. He presses forward and Niles steps away.

Gavin is told what to do and he obeys: holds his hands out, watches Niles pick up a length of rope. When he’s told to stand, he locks his shoulders and carefully shifts onto his feet, crouching and rising slowly but without stumbling.

It’s not easy to keep his arms outstretched, but Gavin does this plenty in his workouts. Endurance is key. He watches as Niles ties his wrists in a rope cuff, checks the tightness and makes adjustments until he’s satisfied.

“Color?”

“Green,” Gavin answers immediately. He’s curious about the cuff, the strength of the rope, so he forces his arms apart until it digs into his skin. The tie holds firmly and Gavin feels another rush of arousal, his interest quite visible when his cock gives an interested twitch. He stops pulling and stands in position until Niles guides his arms down and rubs away the tension.

Gavin sighs as his arms stop burning and he can focus on nothing but Niles’s hands, smooth and gentle. Those hands move over his arms to his chest, and Gavin swallows his anticipation as Niles begins to play with him. The first touches don’t do much, but once his blood gets flowing and his skin is used to the contact, Gavin needs to close his mouth tightly to keep from making a sound when Niles teases his nipples.

“How is that? You seem to enjoy the attention to your chest.” Niles is riling him up more, and Gavin draws a shaky breath because he doesn’t know how he can possibly reply. That is clearly the wrong answer. The way Niles twists his nipples hurts _good_ , but Gavin knows how to identify a threat – a slight bit more and it won’t be good anymore. “Use your words, Gavin.”

This is always the hardest part. Giving voice to his feelings, whether physical or emotional, admitting to his likes and dislikes, painting an image of himself that is more reality and less what people assume – Gavin was never taught to do that. On the contrary, he was taught to feel shame, to doubt everything he knows about himself. Now he’s learning. When Niles adds more pressure, forces him to speak, Gavin knows he can safeword out of it. He knows he has a choice, and he makes the right one.

“Ah, fuck,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth, because it takes every ounce of self-control not to press forward and ease the stinging pressure he feels on his chest. Gavin closes his eyes, swallows, and makes himself admit it. “It’s good, sir, I like it.”

Just as they do with clamps, his nipples fill with blood and become more sensitive when Niles releases them. Gavin makes a soft sound when Niles gives them more attention, even leaning down for chaste kisses to show his appreciation for Gavin’s submission. This is worth the struggle of retraining his mind.

“Good boy. Don’t make me punish you, Gavin, you’re so beautiful when you behave.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, sir.”

This is what makes Niles special. He’s fair and just, he tells Gavin when he needs correction and why, and he’s never doled out punishment without reason. In the past, Dominants have beaten Gavin for – well, he’s not sure. He clearly remembers one partner telling him he should know what he did wrong, never explaining, only ever causing pain. Niles would never act like that.

“I know, darling. You need me to remind you, it’s been so long.” There is even more proof – he speaks softly, all the while showering Gavin with affection. They kiss, and Gavin nearly gets lost in it. He wouldn’t mind getting lost in Niles. “All you need is guidance and a steady hand, isn’t it?”

It’s that gentle leadership that takes Gavin under. His eyes search Niles’s face – the emotion reflected in those eyes can’t be just Gavin’s imagination. “Ah. Yes, sir.”

Gavin follows where he’s led, to one of the metal bars secured to the wall. He knows this likely means the flogging is next, but the way Niles ties him to it makes him nervous. It’s not the bondage itself, but the fact Gavin has no support to keep him standing: he can’t hold onto the bar with enough strength to steady himself, and he can’t reach the wall beyond it. This is Niles testing his obedience and resilience, and Gavin reminds himself that they can stop at any time. They can, because he knows better than to lie.

Niles soothes him with affection, a wordless reassurance, and Gavin reminds himself that there are worse things. Some flash through his mind, others would be too painful to even bring to the surface when Niles is tracing the curve of his spine with something resembling – well, Gavin won’t use that word.

“Stand still, I know you can take it.” Niles believes what he says, so Gavin internalizes that and makes himself believe it. He adjusts his posture just enough to resemble standing comfort and nods, breathing deeply when Niles moves behind him.

The blow he’s expecting never lands. Instead, Niles kneads the tension from his muscles and presses fingers firmly against them, working out some of the knots Gavin has been building since before he could pronounce stress. It’s not nearly enough to train his muscles not to bunch at the first bad thought, but it does make Gavin relax temporarily.

Gavin is no longer worried about the flogger making him hit the floor – he’s sure this is what will weaken his knees, Niles pressed up behind him with wet lips doting on his skin. The suit he wears is soft, expensive, and Gavin adores the feeling of it against his back and ass. It’s a symbol Niles does not need to establish dominance, but it goes a long way to help set the atmosphere and hits all of Gavin’s sweet spots.

Strong hands find the curve of his hips and pull them back, forcing a shiver that runs from Gavin’s feet up to the base of his skull. He almost moans, but there is still some shame holding him quiet, keeping him in check.

“Good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, Ni- yes, sir.” Gavin almost forgets himself. Niles speaks with his lips still pressed to a toned shoulder, and Gavin wishes he could reach back and cradle his head in encouragement. What he gets is even better: Niles praises him and moves against him, and Gavin presses back eagerly when he feels teeth scraping his skin.

“Good enough to be marked, aren’t you? To have an excuse to show me those pretty bruises once we finish here.”

Gavin’s inhale is sharp and the breath gets caught in his throat. He rolls back against Niles and drags his teeth over his lower lip, but reminds himself that verbal answers are required. “I- if you think so, sir.”

It’s a bad answer. Gavin knows it the moment he says it, he knows it’s too weak and indecisive to satisfy Niles, and his attempt at placing the responsibility for whether he’s good or not on his Dominant – oh, that will not fly.

“No, Gavin. You need to tell me, tell me how good you are. Do you deserve the flogger tonight, or should I make do with my hand?” That threat doesn’t bother with veils, and Gavin immediately protests it, cursing his past for making this so hard on both of them. Niles knows. Niles understands, and that’s what Gavin tells himself as he curves his body and leans back, so close to the emotional edge he feels as if he could fall.

“I’m good, I am, I’ll be even better. Please, sir.” It’s the desperation that drives away the shame. He needs Niles to approve, to know Gavin wants to believe his praise and, in this room, he will do what it takes to earn it. _Good_ is still easier than _beautiful_.

“I don’t know what you’re asking for. You need to be clearer with your requests, Gavin.”

Niles is playing a longer game here. Gavin knows he’s being deliberately pushed and he wants to embrace it, but he still tugs at the ropes holding him in place and allows an uncharacteristic sound to slip past his lips.

“ _Fuck_. I want you to – to hit me, to use the flogger, please. I’ve been good, I can take it. Please, sir.” Gavin doesn’t know if it’s enough or if he can do more, but Niles kisses his neck and then he’s gone. Gavin needs to twist his neck rather uncomfortably to look back and watch him, but the fight leaves him as soon as he sees Niles reaching for the floggers. He can do this. He can make his man proud.

The anticipation and Niles’s previous ministrations have left Gavin sensitive and eager, more so now that the fear is dissipating. He’s thankful for Niles’s attention and care – he knows to bring Gavin down before going hard again, giving him a moment to avoid true panic. He does that with his hands, with the falls of the flogger just brushing Gavin’s skin. Leaning back into it is only instinct, but it also serves as a sign that he is ready.

Ready enough for Niles to force him back into place and growl low in his ear, the threat making Gavin tense but ten times more aroused. Niles works him down again, leaves him on edge until the first strike of the flogger against his back. It’s not painful, which makes it easier for Gavin to count.

“One,” he breathes out, closing his eyes as he prepares for more intensity. It’s slow going, the blows building to a gentle sting, growing sharper and sharper until Gavin’s numbers are preceded by moans and grunts, his arms pulling the rope tight for some support. He only stops when Niles does, when he pulls back for a change of tools. Gavin knows what’s coming but he has no time to brace for it.

 _Thud_ is precisely the right word to describe the pain caused by a hard strike of buffalo leather against skin. It’s deep and resonating, causing Gavin to pull himself tight and relax again in a matter of seconds. He remembers to count then, hopes he’s fast enough to avoid disappointing. When another strike lands, he knows he was satisfactory.

It’s hard to keep up when Niles decides to push him further, to use fast blows until Gavin struggles to remember what number comes next. He stutters once and that’s what brings on a break, a lighter smack followed by soothing touches, kisses, praises. He then alternates between both paces, works Gavin up and down until his knees start to buckle and he can’t hold on with only his force of will.

It doesn’t matter that Gavin feels like he’s falling. It doesn’t matter because Niles is always there to catch him, to hold him close and bring tears to Gavin’s eyes with words he can never allow his heart to trust.

“So good, so strong, baby,” Niles says against the shell of his ear, somehow supporting Gavin and untying the rope that binds him to the bar. Even with his back red and lined with marks, the fabric of Niles’s suit doesn’t feel rough. “You took every hit, sweetheart, and never dropped. You make me proud.”

Gavin blinks back the wetness that forms in his eyes and allows a soft moan to sound when Niles moves him onto the bed. Gavin is set to kneel, his back flush against Niles’s chest, and he feels heavenly. The stimulation is still pleasant, still filling him with desire and need, and he rests his head against a clothed shoulder for some stability.

“My beautiful Gavin, you’ve done such a great job following my orders. How are you feeling now? Can you give me a color?” Gavin exhales slowly and feels a smile come to his lips, weak and barely there because he can’t quite focus. Niles always has this warmth, this – maybe he can admit it in the privacy of his own mind – this _love_. Gavin wishes it could last forever.

“M’green.” Gavin tries to roll his hips, to control the movements of his body, but there’s still a pervasive physical bliss keeping him from being entirely responsive to his own commands. He wants Niles to touch him more, wants to be able to touch him in return and show just how grateful he is for this moment of freedom.

Niles didn’t ask only for his color, though, so Gavin tries to focus on what his body feels. His shoulders burn, his back is sore, he wishes the pain extended further to his ass, his legs, that he could feel Niles every time he so much as stirs. Licking his lips to combat the dryness, Gavin elaborates on his answer. “Feel good. Starting to get sore, and my shoulders are – you know, from holding my hands up in front.”

 “Yes, of course. Do you need me to release the cuffs?” Niles touches him while he speaks, and when Gavin does move, it’s entirely involuntary.

“No. No, I’m good. S’good.” Gavin doesn’t realize what exactly he’s said until Niles responds with _you are_. He can’t exactly be bothered to fight his partner now, not when he’s on the receiving end of so much full-body affection. He’ll never know exactly how much time they spend sitting together as Niles shows him the kind of care he can never deserve, never be worthy of. Those thoughts don’t cross his mind now, not when he’s so far gone.

It takes Niles’s fingers pressing between his cheeks for Gavin to notice he moved at all. The touch is both pleasant and teasing; a grateful sigh passing his lips when one digit breaches him. It’s only a pleasant fullness for the first minute, but Gavin’s hips jolt and strain when Niles begins to massage his prostate, creating a steady rush of pleasure. It draws needy moans from deep in his core, and those are quickly replaced by pleas for _more_.

Niles takes pity on him and Gavin is more than grateful for it. There’s a moment of reprieve, allowing him to come down from the edge, and then a snug ring is fit around his shaft and the blunt, slick head of the plug presses against his ass. He can take it with ease, but the stimulation from the ridges passing his prostate makes his cock twitch and leak despite the restraint. It’s the last stretch of the toy that leaves him feeling full, legs shaking as he nearly falls forward.

A broken, desperate moan tears through him when Niles turns on the vibrations. Gavin is bordering on overstimulation, floating on an entirely new high. His body grows accustomed to the new feeling and he slowly, steadily finds the ability to hold himself up. It’s only the loss of warmth that warns him of Niles pulling away.

The mattress dips in front of him and Gavin opens his eyes, unaware he’d ever closed them. Niles sits there in front of him and, for a moment, Gavin is utterly confused by the change of position. It all becomes clear when he sees the box, sees Niles carefully removing each black-tip nipple clamp from the jewelry box.

“Color,” Niles commands more than asks, and Gavin watches with the slightest hint of disappointment as the enticing toy is set down and traded for lubricant.

“Ah, green, green.” _So fucking green_. It’s all he can do not to make his pleas a demand, too aware of how desperate and wrecked he looks as he tries to chase even more sensation by thrusting into thin air. Niles is still only watching, waiting, so Gavin tenses and shudders when the plug shifts inside him and forces relaxation once more. “Please.”

“Please what, Gavin?”

“Please, sir.”

“There you go.”

Gavin should have looked more closely at the items Niles laid out. He realizes this when the lubricant hits his skin far colder than usual, coaxing his nipples to full hardness. It gets colder from there, his skin tingling and sensitive, the air almost shocking soft, high-pitched sounds out of him.

When Niles finally secures the clamps, Gavin’s chest feels almost as tender and susceptible to sensation as his genitals. His eyes glaze over, his mouth falls open in a silent groan and he feels a line of saliva threatening to spill. The clash of sensations throughout his entire body push him close to a premature climax, but the silicone ring keeps it from him.

“A work of art, that’s what you are.” Niles’s words hardly register – Gavin is completely lost to the fulfillment of his lust. He almost misses his partner moving closer, lower, until a hot tongue joins the cold gel on his chest. “You should thank me, Gavin. I have given you all you asked for, after all, and here I am with no sign of your gratitude.”

Maybe it’s because he’s so far past coherent thought, but the idea of being ungrateful hits Gavin hard. Not in a bad way – he doesn’t drop, doesn’t ever leave the embrace of subspace. The tension causes another wave of pleasure from the toy inside him, pushing him forward, and Gavin is thankful that his body is more trained in respect and gratitude than his mind.

He settles on his elbows, arching his back and pressing his face against Niles’s crotch. He closes his mouth over the clear outline of a hard cock, noses at it and breathes heavily when Niles’s hand rests on his head, forms a tight grip in his hair.

“What, darling? You want to thank me? Is that it?”

“Yes. Yeah, sir, let me thank you. You’re – ah –“ Gavin’s voice breaks in a mixture of a whine and a moan, his tongue darting out to brush the front of Niles’s pants. “So fucking good to me, and I’m not – I didn’t think, I’m sorry. Let me suck you off, thank you for everything, show you I can be good. So fucking good.”

Gavin isn’t sure what he’s saying anymore, he only knows that he needs to please Niles and show his appreciation for his Dominant’s hard work. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes when he thinks Niles might not allow him that chance. He’s still held in place, but then – then Niles is the one moving and Gavin’s face heats even further when he realizes that feeling is a clothed cock rubbing against his cheek, his jaw, over his mouth. He looks up for a brief second and then opens wide, running his tongue along the length and sucking until he can taste the fabric in his throat.

His disappointment when Niles pulls away is short lived. Gavin wants to taste him, but he can make do with a condom for now. It means having Niles hot and heavy in his mouth, and it means showing him how thankful Gavin is.

“Alright, sweetheart, show me how thankful you are.”

It’s not entirely ideal, doing this with his hands bound and the stimulation of his own cock and prostate making it harder to breathe, but Gavin does his best. He basks in Niles’s praise and allows it to encourage him, leaning his weight onto his forearms and showing his enthusiasm with every flick of his tongue.

In Gavin’s opinion, it’s over far too soon. He’s not exactly complaining about the kiss, the way Niles plays with his clamps to send a spike of pain and pleasure through his chest, but he wants to reward his Dominant. Perhaps this isn’t the time for that, though, because Niles’s eyes are focused and dark. He looks at Gavin as if he’s prey, except his objective is not quite predation.

“Color, sweetheart?”

“Green.” Gavin sits back on his heels with a moan, bouncing slightly to feel the plug shift further. “So fucking green, please, _please_ , Ni. Sir. I want you to fuck me, need you.”

Gavin doesn’t notice his own tears, not even when he tastes the salt in Niles’s kiss. Their tongues move together in a slow, passionate rhythm even as Gavin is near desperation – and then he isn’t. The last pulse of the vibrator is sudden and it leaves him wanting, more so when it’s removed entirely. Niles touches him, teases the push of fingers inside of him just long enough to have Gavin draw another shuddering breath.

“I want you to ride me. You did promise to do the work this time.”

“Yeah. _Fuck_ yeah.” Gavin doesn’t catch his mistake in time to keep the hard look of disapproval from crossing Niles’s face. He feels a stab of guilt and immediately tries to correct himself, rolling his lower lip between his teeth. “Yes, sir. Sorry.”

“Good boy.” Those two words drive all of Gavin’s worries away. He can feel his shoulders burning again, having been held forward for so long by the cuffs around his wrists. None of that matters when Niles praises him. “You corrected yourself, that makes me proud.”

That’s all he ever wants. Gavin smiles adoringly when Niles kisses him on the nose before pulling away, and he rises up onto his knees to move onto his partner’s lap as soon as a new condom is rolled on. He almost goes too fast, almost forgets why he’s the one doing the work today, but he remembers to stop and be respectful.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Of course.” Niles’s little smile, the one he thinks no one can see, makes waiting worth it. “Come on, Gavin, show me what you want.”

Gavin is still overeager, unable to lower himself at the right angle without the help of his hands. He goes slower the second time, feels his thighs ache with the strain of holding him up for so long, and feels the bliss of fullness.

He doesn’t dare stop to adjust, not when he’s spent so long with the toy teasing this moment. His nipples hurt deliciously every time he moves, the chain bouncing and pulling on them. That only lasts so long – Niles’s mouth is on him, lips and teeth and tongue, then his hands. Gavin moans and rolls his hips because his movement is suddenly limited. He’s not prepared for the clamps coming off, his nipples filling out beautifully and being so incredibly sensitive. Niles blows on the cooling lubricant and Gavin cries out, bucking forward and settling on his lap for several seconds before he dares to move again.

The cold sting is replaced with hot relief as Niles sucks and licks the gel from his skin, being absolutely thorough. Gavin thinks he can feel the pleasure in his soul, because this can’t possibly be limited to his physical existence. It’s all intensified by the marks Niles sucks into his skin, by his man being more vocal than usual with his pleasure, by the way Niles bites him hard when he thrusts up and climaxes.

It’s not enough to stop Gavin. Niles is hot, twitching inside him, and Gavin bounces on his cock until it threatens to slip out. He nearly whines at the loss of friction, but is quickly rewarded by Niles’s hand stroking him hard and fast. Gavin spills onto that beautiful black suit, his eyes rolling back as his whole body twists in ecstasy.

He struggles to catch his breath, pressing his face against Niles’s shoulder and nuzzling the soft fabric of his jacket. He somehow finds himself horizontal, resting on that strong chest as the wetness of his own release presses against his stomach. Niles is talking to him, speaking his usual sweet words and praises, and Gavin allows his eyes to slip closed.

He’s not still long enough to sleep, but the feeling of having dozed off is there when they move again. Gavin yawns and rolls his shoulders, realizing how uncomfortable it is to have his arms pressed between their bodies only when he’s made to sit up.

“You can sleep soon, sweetheart. We need to clean up.” _We_ usually means Niles, but it also means Gavin has to get _off_. He rises back onto his knees and winces as Niles’s now soft cock slips out of him. “There. I’ll dispose of the condom and be right here to untie you.”

Gavin doesn’t know if his partner is back quickly or not, his sense of time is completely shot. All he knows is that Niles isn’t there, and then he is. Gavin can do little but sigh and allow the aftercare to happen, his energy drained by the emotional intensity of their scene. Before he knows it, the collar is gone, along with the ropes that bound him. Niles rubs the soreness away, first with bare hands and then with ointment to cover his arms and back.

That’s when Gavin does sleep, that rare dreamless sleep that spares him the usual pain of waking from memories he’d rather never have made. He feels safe, warm and sated, comfortable despite the buttons of Niles’s shirt pressing against his front as they settle together on the bed.

He wakes more than an hour later to the pleasant sound of Niles humming, gentle fingers combing through his hair. The first sound to leave him is nothing more than a beat of voice during an exhale, so he tries again.

“Food?”

“Sit up and have some water first, you’re getting hoarse.”

Niles’s voice is gentle and humorous, enough to dissuade Gavin from complaining that he’s hoarse because he’s only waking up. Sitting is rather difficult when he doesn’t remember how to move his limbs independently for the first minute of consciousness, but he manages to cross his legs and straighten his back. His shoulders are numb on the surface, but still rather painful to move – he tries to help that by rolling them back one at a time, then together.

“Did I push you too hard?”

“M’good. Where’s that water?” Gavin asks, holding out his hand and offering Niles one of his reassuring crooked smiles. It doesn’t work. He rolls his eyes dramatically and nudges his partner’s leg with his knee. “You didn’t hurt me, Ni. It’s all good.”

That seems to convince Niles enough to pour him a cup of water, which he hands over to Gavin with excessive caution. Yes, Gavin nearly loses his grip and spills his drink all over the bedding, but he _doesn’t_.

Niles chastises him for drinking too fast, but obliges when Gavin asks for a second cup. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he got after the scene, how dry his lips felt now that the saliva coating them had set and cracked. He rubs water into them with his index finger once he’s done drinking, then looks away when he catches Niles staring.

“I could use that food now,” Gavin adds, feeling that the silence is stretching too long for his comfort. Niles doesn’t object at all – their fingers brush together when he takes Gavin’s glass away, and then there is a platter of fruit and nuts right _there_.

Before Gavin can reach for it, Niles is holding a round slice of kiwi up to his lips. It’s embarrassing and slightly humiliating to go through this when the daze of subspace is already lifting, but Gavin opens his mouth to accept it and feels his cheeks burn bright. He doesn’t know why he had to go and fall for a _romantic_.

Gavin allows himself to be fed and slowly grows less bothered by the reality of it, because Niles doesn’t mean this as an act of superiority. It’s clear by his soft expression and crumpled shirt that they’re well out of the scene, and this is only them, looking after each other, making sure no one crashes into a spiral of insecurity.

Gavin still tries to help Niles clean once the food is all gone – he’s going off to sterilize toys and tools, and he insists on doing it all himself. Gavin eventually relents and curls his body around a pillow for a second nap, not quite restful as the first but not half bad. He only wakes up when Niles shakes him gently and calls his name, an action that surprisingly does _not_ startle him to full alertness.

“Mhm?”

“Let’s go upstairs, Gavin. Do you need help walking?”

Gavin shakes his head and stretches, feeling every sore muscle crying out for attention. He delights in the sensation, because it grounds him and prevents the anxiety from returning so soon. When he stands up from the bed, Niles hands him the clothes Gavin had already forgotten about.

He's a little unsteady getting into his underwear and the sweatpants that follow, and the shirt is entirely discarded once Gavin realizes how pointless it is to wear one when Niles has such a nice heating system. It seems to be the right choice, because Niles kisses him and traces the red marks on his chest with the tip of one finger.

“Do you want anything else from the kitchen?”

“M’good. Gotta brush my teeth, and so do you.” Gavin presses a brief kiss to Niles’s chin, then decides to take the lead out of the basement. He just misses the lights going off, and he’s thankful for that much. Dark tunnels aren’t friendly places.

It’s not easy making it all the way upstairs when Gavin feels exhausted down to his bones, worn down in the best of ways. He’s still basking in the aftershocks of pleasure and pain by the time he reaches the bedroom. It’s enough for him to miss the muffled sound of his ringtone under his folded towel until Niles enters the room and points it out.

Late on a Friday night, the call is unlikely to be work-related. Gavin considers ignoring it, but the fear that it might be Tina – that something could have happened to her – drives him to walk across the room to answer. He stops short of swiping right on the bottom line when he sees the name of the contact: Elijah.

Gavin is determined to hang up and throw his phone back into a corner, forget his brother even tried to contact him. He does the first part, then stops cold when he sees his notification screen. All of his comfort is thrown out the window by the number of missed calls; there are seven from Elijah and even more from unknown numbers. One from Chloe. Too many messages for him to count.

He’s not given time to read the messages before the phone rings again. Niles knows something is wrong, Gavin hears him ask about it, but all he can answer with is a _shush_ and a dismissive wave as he swipes to answer.

“Eli? What’s wrong, what happened?” There is no disguising the panic in his voice, the way he can’t quite catch his breath before speaking. Niles tries to offer comfort, sets his hand on Gavin’s lower back, but Gavin pulls away and shakes his head, and God, he hates himself for it.

“Hey, Gav.” There’s something he hasn’t heard in well over a decade. Elijah sounds rough and distressed, his greeting lacking the usual formality and distance that feeds his putrid sense of superiority. Gavin has only ever heard his brother’s voice crack one time. Another sound comes through the line, as if Elijah tries to speak and fails in an attempt to preserve his last shred of dignity.

“You’re freaking me out, Eli. Are you hurt? Do you need help, I can go-“ Even as he formulates questions to ask, Gavin uses his free hand to search through his backpack. He feels for cloth first, finds it, and closes his hand around his pistol. The moment he has it, his posture squares and his breathing eases.

“I’m alright. I fact, you can calm down. I think – you’ll be happy to hear this.” This time, Elijah’s voice breaks into a violent sob, one he tries to cover up with dry and humorless laughter. Gavin doesn’t have the heart to point it out. He’s far too focused on the sound to catch the meaning behind Elijah’s words until he hears a distant, torn, high-pitched wail.

Priscilla’s voice is unmistakable even like this, even a decade later. Gavin freezes, his heart now the rope in a tug of war between fear and hope. He thinks Elijah covers his microphone, because he can hear a muted conversation – Elijah trying to comfort his mother, most likely. The background noise then grows increasingly quiet until his brother speaks again, the pain evident in every word.

“They couldn’t,” he starts and immediately stops. Gavin doesn’t blame him. Elijah cares deeply, somewhere in his little rotten heart, and that’s more than Gavin can say for himself when it comes to their family.

“It’s alright.” Gavin’s throat is tight around the words, but it feels wrong not to encourage Elijah. He knows what is going to be said, but he wants to hear it – he _needs_ to hear it. It may be an unnecessary cruelty in the eyes of others; for Gavin, it’s the desperate desire for freedom.

“He was better. A lot better, going home next week. The nurse came in to bring his lunch and he was – she found him on the floor and they couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop the bleeding in his brain. They tried everything. Everything.” Elijah coughs up the remains of a sob he tried to swallow, an ugly sound that crackles aggressively through the phone. They both know better than to cry around their father, even if he is nothing but a corpse.

“I’m sorry.” It sickens Gavin that Elijah is right: he is happy. Happy and relieved and at least ten tons lighter, all because a graying alcoholic passed away on the cold floor of his hospital room. The distant echo of a memory comes back to haunt him: men laughing at their kill count, boasting about their achievements as if death should be celebrated. Gavin knows better. He knows death too well to take pleasure in it, but this time – this time he does it anyway. His fingers uncurl from the covered hilt of his pistol and his hand slowly withdraws from the bag. “Fuck, Eli, I’m so-“

“Don’t pretend you give a shit!” There is venom to Elijah’s bite, but this time it drains quickly. He sighs and Gavin wishes someone had taught them how to do this, how to offer comfort and share burdens when nothing in the world makes sense. “You shouldn’t, anyway. Not after everything he did.”

“I don’t give a shit about him, asshole. It fucks me up to hear you this way,” Gavin admits, through it cracks his heart open to do so. “It’s not like I can do anything about it, and I don’t know which one of us is the bigger piece of shit in this situation.”

“Yeah.” The pause that follows the single word makes Gavin wish he were there. He hates hospitals, hates death, hates Priscilla and the man whose death she’ll expect him to grieve. He only wants to be there for his brother, his protector, his destroyer. “We’re holding the funeral on Monday. Letting – letting people have the weekend, and there are cousins from out of town that need time to- I’ll text you the address, show up if you want.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Yeah.”

“Eli-“ The line goes dead, because it’s typical of Elijah to leave him hanging. Gavin lowers his phone slowly, his hand unsteady. He draws a deep breath to center himself, to remember where he is and that this is _real_.

When Gavin turns to face Niles, that strong face is disconcerted, plagued by worry and doubt. He’s sure his own expression doesn’t help: he feels confused and loss, adrift at sea, brows tight because his eyes burn with tears of unknown origin.

“Gavin. Sweetheart, what happened?” Even mellowed by the endearment, the question is serious and focused. Gavin finds it reassuring on several levels. He wants to reply, but words escape him. He blinks away the treacherous tears and looks up to find Niles has moved closer, within touching range but not touching.

He’s keeping the boundary Gavin established wordlessly during the call. This time, Gavin is the one who moves for an embrace. He doesn’t know what force moves him, but his arms wrap tight around Niles’s shoulders and he pulls him down into an awkward, clumsy kiss. It should be a kiss that seeks comfort, but it isn’t. Gavin hates the joy he feels, but not enough to suppress it. Elijah fades away, Priscilla fades away, his fears all fade with them – for now. It’s one moment where Gavin is truly free.

There is no one he would rather share this newfound freedom with, so he kisses Niles again and backs him up against the bed until they both tumble onto the mattress, a disorganized mess of limbs. When they lock eyes, Gavin’s smile is honest and open as he fights the persistent urge to cry. It makes his lip tremble, and he sucks saliva back through his teeth to avoid drooling on Niles, who ever so tenderly raises a hand to caress his cheek.

“I am in no way complaining, but what brought on this sudden enthusiasm? You were exhausted, and your call sounded rather somber.” The formality and care alert Gavin to Niles’s genuine worry, and he realizes there is no easy way to explain what happened. He needs to take a leap of faith; one he hopes Niles will follow. At this point, Gavin can’t handle being the object of disgust from him.

“I was worried about Eli. I am, honestly, he’s pretty torn up.” Gavin swallows the anxiety that threatens to ruin his peace, rolling off of Niles to rest beside him. “I know this is fucked up, and I haven’t told you enough to justify it, and I get it if you think I’m messed up in the head. It’s a good thing, I think, for me. I might just be a selfish asshole-“

“Gavin, count your breaths.” It’s a command. Gavin realizes his lungs are burning nearly as much as his muscles, and he’s grateful for Niles’s watchful guidance. He obeys, relaxes, and presses closer to nose at the side of his partner’s neck.

“My dad died.” It’s only saying it out loud that makes it true. Gavin’s hand cups the curve of Niles’s ribcage and he thinks – he needs to tell Tina, to go home and prepare his uniform for the funeral. All of that can wait.

“Sweetheart.” There it is again, the endearment free of judgment. Niles embraces him tightly and Gavin melts into his arms, settles into a safety he’s never felt in his life. “It’s normal to feel this way. He’s not here to hurt you anymore.”

“I never-“

“You told me enough, and I know you wouldn’t be happy over the death of someone innocent. Don’t let him hurt you more than he already has.” Niles presses a kiss to his forehead and Gavin feels his smile. “I don’t think I would celebrate my mother’s passing, but I do not blame you.”

“I’m not an asshole, then?”

“Only sometimes,” Niles jokes, and Gavin laughs along with him. This is new. This is good, better than he could ever imagine. “Even if you are an asshole, I want to wake up next to you every day.”

“God.” Gavin whispers it, because he’s not half as horrified at that concept as he should be. His house is empty, lonely, and he can never sleep properly without Niles to share the bed with. “Don’t say that. Soon it’ll be Sunday and I gotta dash before your brother shows up, then I got the funeral to go to, it’s a whole mess.”

“You can stay for Sunday.” Niles runs his fingers through Gavin’s hair again during a gentle, quiet moment. He seems to be gathering courage to continue, and Gavin’s heart drums aggressively in his chest. “You can stay as long as you want.”

There’s a tightness to Niles’s muscles, like he knows he’s said something he shouldn’t. Gavin thinks that’s appropriate, but he’s not feeling the undercurrent of panic that usually comes with men who ask to live with him. The reality of the request sinks in and Gavin sits up, suddenly serious because Niles can’t be.

“Isn’t this too fast?” He asks, feeling the pulse of blood throughout his whole body as his heart works overtime.

“It is. It’s definitely too fast, but I still mean it.” Niles sits beside him and takes his hand, and Gavin wants to cry for an entirely different reason. He feels that’s all he’s done during the second part of his day. “We don’t have to decide now. We’re both high on endorphins and overdue on sleep.”

“Impulsive isn’t always bad.” Gavin is testing the water, because he’s not sure that’s true. Niles only smiles and nods, though, and Gavin squeezes their palms together. “Let’s do it.”

“Oh. My beautiful Gavin,” Niles breathes against his mouth when they lean in for a kiss, this one long and full of the emotions they don’t dare give voice to. More endearments follow, and Gavin believes them. He believes the universe will let him have this.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @hassumccoy or @daughterofdeath and on twitter @xhelasdottir.


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